A Smuggler's Story
by Ardoa88
Summary: (OC) Lyra is the best smuggler on the planet. So when a job arises that's challenging AND profitable, how can she say no? All she has to do is infiltrate the Jedi Temple and steal a valued treasure from underneath the noses of the protectors of the Galaxy. Easy right? For this heist Lyra is going to need all her wits about her to emerge with her prize... And her life.
1. The Impossible Heist

**_Hello readers! This is my first official fanfic story EVER so I'm excited and apprehensive at the same time! As most of you are probably Star Wars fans I will make the disclaimers now that almost all of the locations and aliens and all around world (and a few characters) of this fanfic have arisen from the inspiration of Star Wars and are not from my own original mind._**

 ** _phew- now that formalities are over, thank you in advance! I welcome any and all valued criticisms a_** ** _nd thoughts and praise (especially praise ^_^) you wish to share so please review to your hearts content. As- again- this is my first time doing this I don't have a planned out schedule for posting new chapters. For now I'll try posting a chapter every week- but I'll get that sorted out soon depending on how well this first chapter turns over._**

 ** _and so- without further ado- I encourage you to enjoy Star Wars: A Smuggler's Story!_**

 ** _-Ardoa88_**

* * *

Coruscant, the capital of the Galaxy.

A city-covered wasteland if you asked me; all 5,127 levels of it, from the towering skyscrapers to the toxic underworld. At a distance, the planet upheld the guise of a white collar, pristine existence. But underneath the thin metal skin the city was thriving with underhanded dealings, backstabbing politics, betrayals and treasons so daring that not even the diplomatic senators could claim ignorance to the corruption.

That's what made my job fun.

Down on floor 1,677- 32 levels above the chemically rich lower layers- I crouched atop a cantina, clad in dark brown with a black half-cloak draped around my shoulders. The scope of my P-47 sniper rifle was awash in the purple backlight of a neon sign that read, 'The Crowded Crown'. The beacon of purple stood out in the dark of the day: light from the surface rarely penetrated this deep into the planet, so it was eternally 'night' even though the sun was still up.

While my weapon lay silent besides me, I scanned the influx of customers and exodus of drunkards through a pair of darkvision goggles. My eyes flicked to my watch: 20 minutes since last contact with the target. According to the intel I received, the mark should be completing his transaction about now; the exchange of an item my client was extremely interested in acquiring.

The locator on my wrist blipped twice. Moments later, a green-skinned alien wrapped in thick clothes exited the bar, much too steady on his feet to be intoxicated. He began walking west along the skywalk, a vibroblade strapped to his belt and a small sack clutched firmly in his left claw. Pushing my goggles up, I moved quickly to the rifle. Within seconds the crosshairs of my weapon were trained on the target's diamond shaped, lizard-like... scales… damn it!

I holstered my weapon, standing into a half-crouch and slinking along the rooftops to follow the mark. A Barabel… Nada'la had sent me after a Barabel!

A few choice words about my employer slipped from my lips as I repositioned myself. As I moved, I adjusted the setting on the gun, reaching into one of the many pockets on my vest to produce an armor-piercing shell. Barabel's were a species of alien native to a primitive outer rim system. They had retractable claws, two stomachs, a regenerative tail, and a skin layer so thick that a simple blaster bolt would merely bounce off the natural armor. The barrel of the P-47 followed the lizard man as he turned into an empty side alley. I loaded the chamber with the modified round and took aim, the shot locking perfectly. My finger moved to touch the trigger as a second figure wrapped in a dark robe oozed from the shadows.

I blinked. The newcomer was taller than the Barabel, more humanoid in his gait as the two drew close- they were obviously acquaintances. Against my better judgement, I decided to hold my fire, curious as to what I'd been tasked with retrieving; not that I wouldn't look in the bag once I got it. But I knew people had loose tongues- especially when they thought they were safe.

With the noise from speeders and the typical city bustle, I couldn't ascertain their words from my position. Taking out a comm and slipping it into my ear, I tossed the other down into the alley below- the small 'clunk' it made upon hitting the ground practically nonexistent over the din. At my end, I switched the link on; their hushed conversation now loud in my ear.

"-late, Vangrath? What took so long?"

"Thiss one was delayed by the dealer. He tried to up the pricce, but thiss one denied him the privilege of negoccciating." The Barabel- the one called Vangrath- patted the vibroblade sheath at his hip.

The hooded figure sighed, "Just as well, we don't have many credits to spare. You made sure it was the correct one?" By the deep tones in his voice I deduced he was male.

"Yess." Vangrath began to remove the item but the robed man held out his hand.

"Not here, fool! Head back to the Cossack and wait for me."

The Barabel nodded, and as silently as he'd come, the hooded figure vanished- no doubt using the shadows to his advantage. My mind reeled, the Cossack was the name of Senator Millian's personal transport. What use did a diplomat have with illegal merchandise? I figured it was high time I found out.

As Vangrath turned to leave, there was a subdued flash as the bullet left the barrel. The lizard grunted as my projectile pierced through his armored skin. It was the last sound he made as he slumped to the floor, dead. I jumped down from my vantage point, landing heavily on the skywalk. I approached the dead man with one of my pistols drawn for insurance, but the alien was well and truly lifeless.

Smiling I bent down and retrieved my comm before snatching the black sack. Glancing around the alley, I snuck a peek into that little black bag that both my employer and- apparently- a senator held stake in. Inside was… I whistled, "Well isn't this interesting?"

I fingered the green powder carefully, holding it up to my nose. The sweet aroma from the drug filled my nostrils and I lifted the bag a bit to gauge its weight. At least 20 grams of it: If I was right, even half a gram of this stuff could get me arrested for 30 years, and selling such a quantity could make one just as rich.

"Makes sense that a senator would want Glitterstim." I mused quietly. The drug placed the recipient in a pleasant high, while making them more viable to suggestion for the duration of its effects. Under it's influence one might be persuaded to- say- vote a certain way, relinquish certain information, enter a code in a locked door, even walk off a balcony if their mind was weak or if the dose was large enough.

So naturally, I saved some for myself; putting only a gram or two in a small vial and slipping it into an inner coat pocket. You never knew what could come in handy on a job. Speaking of… I did a search of the dead lizardman, checking for hidden pouches or- aha! A small coin purse with maybe two dozen credits. I pocketed the prize and unbelted the vibroblade, the weapon was in decent quality and I could chance selling it in the lower markets.

I dragged the dead Vangrath to the side of the alley and propped him in a slumped position next to a dumpster, adjusting the clothes so it covered the wound and most of the blood. With any luck people would think he was drunk or homeless. Not that it mattered much. People in the lower levels were used to murders.

With the last task done, I stood and dusted off my hands, deciding it was time to get paid.

* * *

"You sent me after a Barabel?" My tone was a mix between outrage and disbelief as I stormed into the Crime Lord's office. The bouncers who I'd barged past at the front door entered seconds behind me, the two heavily armored Gamorreans grunting in their pig-like way as they each grabbed one of my arms. I allowed them the satisfaction of thinking I was under their control, my eyes trained on the woman behind the large desk in the center of the back room.

Nada'la barely gltanced up from her reclined position, waving a dismissive hand at the guards, "Release her, and go wait outside."

The pigs grunted, one of them snatching the blaster hooked to my belt as he went. I made no objection this time; it was standard policy that no one enter Nada'la's domain without first forfeiting their weapons at the front door.

When we were alone Nada'la glanced at me, "You're lucky they didn't kill you."

"I'm lucky they're terrible at their job." I retorted, crossing my arms, "which reminds me- you sent me after a Barabel?"

The Crime Lord waved away my complaint, "I sent you to retrieve a parcel. How was I to know your mark would end up being one of those short-tails?" I caught the subtle insult in her words, the Icarii people held grudges against anyone who wasn't an ally: they rarely had 'friends' so ally was the next best to an Icarii. Half a century ago there had been an attack on their homeworld that left the species devastated, only a few dozen of the aliens survived; tasked with breeding a new generation. The Icarii never truly learned to trust anyone after that incident.

Like all of her species, Nada'la had a crystalline blue hue to her skin, it's luminescent qualities causing it to glow in the low light. In contrast, her flame red hair was intricately interwoven with a variety of gems that- if she decided to sell them at black market value- would be worth gigatons of credits. In proper Crime Lord fashion her getup was- indecent, to put it kindly. Although she wasn't wearing much in the way of clothing, the silks left a fine display of the various gun and saber holsters attached to Nada'la's upper right thigh, waist, and forearm.

The Icarii went back to methodically cleaning the cylinder of the dismantled handgun, her golden eyes meticulously scanning the part for errors. The rest of the pieces were strewn across her desk: a Tm-30 by the shape of the grip. Her office room was the same as it always was, astonishingly well organized with a host of crates and boxes of questionable contents stacked in the corners.

Nada'la kept the more valuable items sealed in the vault behind her desk; hence the tri-phase lock, a security system with a bolt strong enough that a lightsaber would have difficulty breaking it, and a coded series of keys that were even harder to crack. Given the proper tools, I might be able to get in if I had a day or two of uninterrupted access to the lock. Knowing the Crime Lord, I would also need another day just to disable whatever traps she was sure to have in place.

Possibly the best deterrent for thieves was that her base of operations was situated on level 1,647 a mere two floors above the toxins. Not that she had to suffer due to the airborne chemicals- her whole building was jacked up with the best filtration system on this side of the sector. But any would-be-attacker would have to wade their way through of society of cutthroats and thieves just to get to her front door.

"And besides," Nada'la continued, drawing me out of my thoughts, "You're one of the best in the business. Nothing you couldn't handle," she nodded to the bag that was tucked in my belt, "or am I wrong?"

I hid a scowl from crossing my face, the blue skinned alien knew exactly how to make one feel important and insecure at the same time. "I'll be reimbursed for my troubles. Armor piercing bullets are getting harder to find with the new policies in place."

Nada'la had gone back to her maintenance, the only acknowledgement of my statement being a slightly raised eyebrow. "Naturally." She nodded, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a purse that sagged with the weight of the credits. She set it down with a 'thunk'; the coins jingling inside.

I placed the stolen goods on the desk, but neglected to pick up the bag of money. Even without touching it I could tell there was more than the promised pay in the purse.

"I know Glitterstim is valuable," I mused, referring to the rare drug in the bag, "but not this profitable." I looked up at my employer. "What do you want, Nada'la?"

"Presumptuous brat, aren't you? Most of my employees would be elated at the pay raise."

"Most would- but I can tell when someone wants to get me in their good graces." If I took that 'pay raise' I'd get a request for a special favor later in the week, one that if I refused, the Crime Lord would demand the return of the raise and then some. When I couldn't pay up, doing the 'favor' would be my only way out of her debt; well, that or death. Death was always an option.

"So what do you want?" I reiterated.

"It's not what I want. I have a customer who hold special interest in a particular item." The Icarii began to reassemble the handgun. Her fingers were a flurry of practiced motions as the weapon was pieced back together.

She was avoiding the question, "What's the job, Nada'la." I was getting annoyed now.

When the weapon had been fully reassembled, the Crime Lord finally withdrew a datapad from her desk and handed it to me silently, her yellow eyes scanning my face as I read the job. I admit, it was hard to keep up my inexpressive mask, and when I got to the last part- what the item was- my mouth fell open.

"No way in the 27 moons of Hell am I doing that!" I said after I finally managed to pick my jaw up off the floor.

"I thought you enjoyed a challenge?" There was a smile in Nada'la's voice.

"A challenge, yes. A death run? No thank you." I tossed the datapad on her desk and turned to leave. Before I'd taken two steps the sound of her handgun clicking made me freeze. My own hand instinctively dropped to the pistol holster at my side but touched nothing. I cursed quietly: Right- they'd stripped me of my weapons.

"Really?" I used sarcasm to mask the fear that shot through me, "you're gonna shoot me?"

"You know too much. Whether you take the job or not, it'll get done. Can't have a liability in the equation who could damage my business."

Shit, it was another common tactic of the Crime Lord. I decided to chastise myself later, for now I focused on not getting pumped with blaster fire. "You're gonna shoot your best runner?" I toned down the sarcasm this time, aiming for genuine curiosity.

"I said you're one of the best, I have other options."

"You mean like Suba or Ragger? They're as clumsy as they are stupid. Admit it," my hand reached for the door, "you need me. I'm the only one fool enough to take the job and the only one smart enough to succeed."

"Is that a yes?"

"It's a maybe, I need to scope out the place first. If it looks too difficult I won't take the job- let someone else risk their neck. If it's possible," I leaned heavily on the 'if', "I'll be back in two weeks with your prize."

"And how do I know you won't inform the authorities?"

"You'll have to trust me, and as a token of that trust," I nodded at the purse full of credits on her desk, "I'll leave that with you until my decision's made." The crime lord hesitated, considering my offer. The gun was still trained at my chest.

"I'm worth more to you alive than dead, Nada'la."

Another few seconds passed before the Icarii lowered her weapon. "Indeed you are. I expect you back in two weeks."


	2. Padawan Problems

_**Hello readers! I know this is a bit sooner than my planned 'weekly update', but my family will be out of town for the weekend and I'm not entirely sure how much internet time I'll have so you have circumstance to thank for the early post. :D**_

 _ **Shoutout to Ensis96: Thanks for all the support and encouragement you've provided. Thanks for being the first official follower (and reviewer) of this fanfic. It means a lot to have an experienced writer send such high praise.**_

 _ **Shoutouts to crawler123 and XscouselondonerX for being my second and third followers respectively, I'm glad you enjoyed Chapter1 and I hope you enjoy the next installment.**_

 ** _To my other 30+ readers: Thanks for making it this far, I look forwards to your continued support :)_**

 ** _Lastly, thank you to the community "Fight to the Finish" for adding my story to your ever growing library. I cannot say in words how happy it made me to have joined your group._**

 ** _And now, please enjoy Star Wars: A Smuggler's Story Chapter2!_**

 ** _-Ardoa88_**

* * *

The Jedi Temple was more a fortress than a place of solitude. With it's high, sloped walls and looming towers, it resembled that of a prison. The building was also twice as secure, with only Jedi and their allies being granted access to the mighty halls. The sanctuary was host to many rooms, including a library, the temple archives, training grounds, sleeping quarters, and a few public areas for the inhabitants to meet and discuss events of the day. Connecting each area was a web of long hallways unifying the wings of the temple; each supporting sizable windows to allow the filter of natural light- an exclusive benefit to those residing on Coruscant's surface levels. The windows on the upper floors of the temple were made of intricately stained glass from a lost monastery on Ossex- a faraway planet in some distant system- and at peak times of the day would cast an array of colors along the diametric surface.

Skiff was in a room far from the display of hues, the blinds drawn and the lights dimmed so only thin shafts of light penetrated the domed area. Or so he assumed; he couldn't really tell with the blindfold covering his eyes and all.

There was a movement by the far wall, a shift in the air. Slowly, the young man angled himself, placing the humming blade of the lightsaber between him and the practice bot. The apprentice opened his mind, allowing the Force to flow through him.

 _Focus._

The blaster bolt stung his upper arm, causing Skiff to draw in a quick gasp at the sting. Despite the short shocking pain, he stood ready, maintaining his aura of awareness. He sensed the circular machine move right, then up- following a preordained random pattern of grid like movements.

 _Focus!_

Skiff moved to the left and heard the bolt smack into the floor where he'd been. Another one followed in rapid succession and the padawan angled the humming green weapon; successfully deflecting the shot. A surge of elation flowed through Skiff's mind at the success, only to be replaced with frustration as a third shot snared him on the leg.

"You need to _focus_ , Skiffuei." his Master commented from the doorway.

Another round of blasts followed, two he deflected, the other he dodged.

"Clear your mind."

The next one hit him on the shoulder.

"Channel your energy through the blade."

Deflected.

"Focus; use the Force."

Dodged.

"Let it guide you."

Another hit on the arm.

" _Focus!_ "

"I'm _trying!_ " Skiff responded in frustration, "But it's hard to focus when I've got you blethering on and on about- Ow!" The apprentice swore as he was hit in his midriff. The padawan tore off the blindfold and, upon locating the bothersome practice bot, swept his lightsaber through the air, cleanly cleaving the orb in twain. The two remaining semicircles of the once whole machine crashed to the ground as Skiff deactivated his weapon.

Uvell was none too happy as he looked upon his student, arms crossed over his chest. Without a word to his apprentice the Master turned, exiting the room. Skiff was not far behind, trailing after the tall bearded man.

"Master, I-" Skiff took a moment to clear his mind, "I'm sorry master, I got frustrated."

"Well isn't that obvious." A pair of eyes equally as grey as his beard and hairline gazed at the young man. Skiff felt his pale cheeks flush in embarrassment.

"I just don't see the point." he continued, "Why train to fight while blindfolded? I'm not likely to close my eyes during a duel."

Uvell stopped and turned to face his student, "And what if you are fighting in a dark environment?"

"I'd use my lightsaber for light."

"And if you are captured? Blindfolded and restrained by your enemies?"

"I'd likely wait use mind control to have them release me."

"And if you are blinded- temporarily or permanently- by circumstance?"

"I-" Skiff frowned thoughtfully, "I'm not sure." he finally admitted.

Uvell nodded knowingly, "We must prepare for the unexpected, my impulsive student. The purpose of that particular exercise is not just to stimulate fighting in an unexpected environment. It's a drill used even by the youngest of younglings to expand their awareness of the Force. The uncanny ability to sense hidden foes is a valuable skill, Skiffuei. It served me and other masters countless times during the warring era." Those grey eyes stared off into the orange glow of the sunset, lost for a moment in a far away memory.

Then the moment passed and the Master's scrutining gaze fell back to his student. Another minute of silence passed before Uvell turned on his heels and continued down the corridor, "A Jedi must control his emotions, channel them through the force. Not react to them. You control your emotions, they don't control you. There is no emotion, there is peace." The mentor lectured.

Skiff rolled his eyes, "But wouldn't it be inhuman to ignore your feelings, Master?"

"Did I ever say to ignore them?" Uvell asked rhetorically, "No, I believe I said to control them. Just because anger, fear, love, sadness, joy, or embarrassment are present does not mean they should justify your actions. This is the lesson you have yet to learn, Skiffuei."

Skiff looked down, considering the advice. Uvell remained silent and after a time, the apprentice let his mind wander, allowed his senses flow through the halls of the great temple. His consciousness touched the psyche of others on their floor, and they felt him. The apprentice was not prying, so no mental walls were raised at the slight probe. The strongest of all presences was Master Uvell's- not surprising due to their close proximity; Skiff knew that the further from the user the more difficult the sensing became.

The bearded man smiled, amusement exuding from his thoughts. "Where was this level of focus back in the training hall?"

Skiff let the mind sense diminish with a wry smile, "Some wise old geezer once told me sometimes it's better to feel, not think."

Uvell frowned, "I am most certainly not old." After a side glance at his reflection in the glass he amended the statement, "Not _that_ old, in any case." The pair soon reached another door, this one holding a more intricate design on it's face than the plain ones they'd passed. Uvell turned to his student,"When my meeting with Shaak Ti has concluded I will meet you in the room."

Skiff nodded curtly and watched as the doors opened to admit his Master, only to close swiftly behind him.

Alone now, the young Darthomirian made his way solemnly back to the private quarters; his mind deeply immersed in critiquing his last practice session. Yes, he'd lost his temper at the end of the training- it seemed he and his species were susceptible to rash mood swings- but other than that small surge, he'd done fairly well. Skiff admitted he wasn't the most adept in manipulating the Force, his specialty lie more in the technical fighting aspects- the sword swings, the acrobatic dancing during a fight, the concentration required to restrain or hinder an opponent long enough to go on the offensive.

The whole telekinesis, mind-tricks, and force sense was where he truly struggled: those skills required a more disciplined focus. Meanwhile, Skiff had a hard time standing still- or sitting still for that matter. The boy chuckled softly, recalling his last meditation session with Master Adi Gallia. She'd become quite irritated at his constant fidgeting, opting to willfully use a book to smack him upside the head whenever he squirmed too much.

As he wandered the many halls, he quickly found himself diverting from the original path he's been taking. Glancing around, Skiff realized he was walking down the corridor that lead to the main entrance. The private rooms could be accessed from the great hall with a side elevator, but he was heading in the opposite direction. Perplexed, the young apprentice slowed his pace, stopping at the top of the grand staircase. Flanking each set of stairs were statues of the original Jedi, their names long forgotten, but their presence imminent at the sight of the sublime statuettes.

Tearing his eyes from the legacies, he scanned the traffic in the streets below, all variety of aliens and people passing by without a second glance at the Temple. Naturally there were a few gawkers; children, tourists, a few off-world diplomats who'd never been to this side of the senate district.

There were five Padawans near the bottom of the entrance, tasked with the job of guarding the gates during the day; though they still received basic combative training, most of their skills were focused on sensing malicious thoughts of intruders or thieves. They would send out waves of mind sensing to determine possible threats that were within fifty yards or so. In the evenjng, two Temple Knights- former students who had completed their training- would be switched out to hold vigil. Eventually some of the apprentices would be admitted into the white-armor group, and one passionate adept would assume the distinct honor of being the Gate Master. The others would go on to be Temple Security, or perhaps rise to the prestigious title of Jedi Knight. That particular path was doubtful, as the five currently standing guard had been trained since birth to fulfill the sole purpose of ensuring no intruder breached the sanctuary.

A nagging sensation at the edge of his consciousness drew his attention and Skiff scanned the many faces at the base of the stairwell. There was a nefarious emanation from beyond the gates, he could sense it. Heck if he knew how, but the notion that someone was casting a critical surveillance of the structure persisted in the base of his forethought- a muffled perception, but present nonetheless.

Realizing the opportunity at hand, Skiff sat against the outer temple wall, crossing his legs meditatively and focusing his mind's eye before sending out a wave of force sense. The minds of the Padawan guards were calm and concentrated, but as Skiff was exposed to the bustle of the streets his head grew dizzy from the unchecked turmoil of everyday life. Simple worries, boundless happiness, excruciating guilt, they all crammed his mind until the lad was reeling, quickly pulling away and leaning back.

Breaths came laboriously and a thin trickle of sweat crawled down his brow. He felt the amusement in the minds of the apprentice gatekeepers at his failed attempt; their mental sniggering loud in his head as he finished retracting the mental wave.

Slightly ticked off at their reaction, Skiff took a meditative breath before standing and heading back to the private rooms. Uvell was right, controlling his emotions was something he- and the rest of Coruscant's population- needed to improve on.

* * *

 ** _Some last words:_**

 ** _First, to Ensis96: Yes, our smuggler from the last chapter does seem a bit stiff, but I agree it will be fun to watch her character develop as the story progresses._**

 ** _To XscouselondonerX: I never expected such a great review! Oh my gawd it makes me smile from ear to ear to hear you liked the first chapter, I pray the enthusiasm holds through for this one as well ^_^ And I agree, I love it when cannon characters are used only sparingly to help spice up the story (some perfect examples can be found in your own work ;). As for including cannon characters, I have a few in mind, but they may not be the famous names we all know and love. If anything it'll be a name that makes readers scratch their head and say "I know I've heard that name somewhere..." But I will definitely consider more cannons for the future. Thank you so much for the review!_**

 ** _To the readers at large: I appreciate that you've read this far- even though it's only chapter2. I know I have a long way to go and my writing can always improve so please, drop me a comment or two- heck, write three if you feel like it. Sadly I cannot read minds like my jedi friends (tragic, right?) So your reviews are the only things I have to go on. If you enjoyed something, let me know, and if you think a part of the story didn't quite fit in, tell me about it._**

 ** _I will always, always_ _take into consideration what the fanbase thinks. Authors promise._**

 ** _I also realize this chapter's a bit dull. But I ask you hang in there- more action is on the way!_**

 ** _I hope everyone has an exceptional weekend!_**

 ** _-Ardoa88_**


	3. Allies and Aliases

_**Hello readers! The next installment is here!**_

 _ **Before we begin, a few shoutouts...**_

 _ **First, to AnoteHazeldays and oddject: Thank you for following the story! So glad Chapters 1 and 2 keep you coming back for more. Now the story has 5 followers (Soon, my apprentices, we shall overthrow the other stories and RULE the Fanfiction, BWAHAHAHAA... ;P)**_

 _ **Next, to HarmonyGirl567: First to favorite the story :D and after only two chapters!? Wow- thank you so much! That gave me a lot of encouragement as a writer to keep posting and you have NO idea how hard it was to restrain myself from posting this chapter immediately after I saw you'd favorited it (Is favorited a word? Welp- it is now ;)**_

 _ **Alright, I won't stall for time anymore, Here is Chapter 3 of Star Wars: A Smuggler's Story,**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

 _ **-Ardoa88**_

* * *

It was dark when I finally got back. Real nighttime, not that I could see the stars; but the flickering lights from the airway and skyscrapers that towered some thirteen hundred floors above me provided the same illusion.

The shop was closed up for the evening, but after a moment of blindly fishing through my pockets, I triumphantly pulled out the microkey, sliding it into the lock.

The well-oiled backdoor opened with the faintest of squeaks, clicking closed behind me. Along the bottom of the garage were red emergency lights. Their soft glow flushed the workshop in a deep maroon, it's shallow radiance framing the outlines of various projects and machines: speeders, aerobikes, droids, and some things I would be hard pressed to describe let alone categorize.

As quietly as I could, I made my way towards the bunk room, eyes peeled for stray tools on the floor or wires I would trip over. So focused was I in my task that I didn't notice the dark skinned alien moving through the shop. Not until it was too late.

I caught a flash of silver-white hair before I was tackled to the ground, crashing awkwardly to the floor as my opponent landed on top of me. Without hesitation I slammed the palm of my hand into the shirtless side of the attacker. A small grunt told me the blow had connected and, as his chest contracted, I used the small new gap between us to pull a leg up to my chest.

I heaved upwards, pushing my knee into his groin and once my opponent was off of me, I rolled back into a crouch.

My eyes snapped up at the attacker. The shirtless alien was another humanoid, but the unique silver hair and pale blue iris' suggested otherwise; possessing an almost ethereal quality to them. My own gaze had trouble pinpointing the edge of his body above the waist- the black pigments in his skin camouflaging well with the environment.

There was a blur of orange as his overall-covered legs moved, rushing towards me. I sidestepped at the last moment, sweeping my leg around to trip the taller man. As if aware of my tactic he spun and dropped to the floor, hands grasping the outstretched foot and yanking it forwards.

I stumbled, losing my balance as I once again tumbled to the floor, the wind getting knocked out of me. Before I could regain it, I was pinned to the ground by my opponent.

I took a few deep breaths, my heart racing. Then I smiled, "Good to see you too, Baxter."

The Echani grunted, releasing his iron grip on my wrists and getting off my stomach. "What mess have you gotten into this time, Lyra?"

"What makes you think I'm here for anything other than a bed?" I replied wearily. Now that the adrenalin was leaving my system, I felt the fatigue settle from the day's ventures.

Baxter snorted, "Your movements were off. Reckless. As if your mind was elsewhere. You were on autopilot for the entire scuffle, Lrya. Don't insult me, I know when you're in over your head." The way he talked made it seem like he was an elderly mentor, though in reality he was only two or three years older than myself.

Regardless, it never ceased to amaze how the Echani could discern all that in a twenty second fight. Rumor told that seconds of combat to them equated to hours of talking. Baxter and I had fought so many times he could probably tell whether I'd eaten breakfast that day or not based on where I placed a kick.

It was uncannily infuriating. "I'm not trying to get you involved, Baxter. I honestly just need a place to bed down tonight."

"Little Leech."

"Grease Monkey."

"Freeloader!"

"Gearhead! I can go all night, pal." Usually we would go on for an extensive period, but today I wasn't up for endless rounds of banter.

Baxter caught the exhaustion in my voice and jerked his head to the bunk room. "One night, Lyra. Then you leave in the morning."

"Thanks." I clapped him on the shoulder- having to reach up a fair bit to do so, "I don't wanna get you involved in this one anyway."

The Echani's brows drew together, "What's the job?"

I waggled my finger his way as I kept walking, "Sorry pal, need to know basis only. 'Sides," I winked at him from the doorway, "it's _much_ too intricate for your skills."

Following me, Baxter scoffed, "I doubt that."

I held up my hands in surrender, saying, "Maybe not, but you're aware of the rules- if you know the job, you take the job." He remained silent as I pulled out the extra hammock and began rigging it to the struts on the walls. Baxter used the bed sacks to save shop space, turning the storage room into a sleeping area.

"Tell me." He said at last.

I smiled coyly- hook, line, and sinker. I passed him the datapad before returning to my task. Once I'd finished hanging the billet I turned to find the mechanic with his mouth agape. Much the same as mine had been in the Crime Lords office.

I plucked the datapad from his hands and winked at him, "Thanks for the assist, pal. I couldn't've done this run without 'cha."

Apparently there was no word strong enough in common, because the one he used to describe me was uttered in his native tongue.

It wasn't a flattering word.

"You're the one who insisted on knowing the job." I admonished.

"You said it would be _difficult_. Not _impossible_." He hissed.

"Nothing's 'impossible'." At his withering glare I sighed, "Fine, it's _improbable_ that this job will go down without a hitch. But I scoped out the place today, I can get in."

Baxter looked skeptical, "And how do you plan on even getting through the front door?"

"Easy," I grinned, pulling out an ID card, "Just gotta look the part."

The techie snatched the item from my hands, looking over the access card with a keen gaze. When I'd been staking out the place earlier, I'd noticed only certain people were allowed in, and only if they flashed one of these cards. My plan after gaining the intel was simple. I trailed one of the well-dressed diplomats as they'd left and- after we were a fair distance from the place- 'accidentally' bumped into them. My pickpocketing skills weren't the best, but they were good enough to fool a haughty, rich snob.

It was one of the oldest tricks in the database, but they always seemed to work.

No doubt when he realized the card was missing it would be deactivated. But Baxter could reverse engineer practically anything he got his hands on.

The Echani grunted as he finished his examination of the access card, "We can figure out the details later. What's the time frame?"

The fact he hadn't dismissed the idea altogether meant it could be done. I would've smiled but his follow up question brought me back to the harsh reality of the job.

"Including the remaining four hours of today? Two weeks." Even as I said it I knew the words were only making it worse. Baxter rubbed his eyes slowly, a long moment passing before he even looked up.

The Echani opened his mouth, then closed it with a defeated sigh. He knew the rules, and knew the smuggler's code- vague as it was- was the only thing separating us from barbarianistic pirates. Finally he stood, pulling his shoulder length hair back into a low ponytail.

His pale blue eyes met my green ones and Baxter smiled grimly, "Then we don't have a second to spare."

I groaned, realizing this meant I'd probably get no sleep tonight. "I was afraid of that."

* * *

I jerked awake, squinting in the morning light that filtered through the high windows. Rubbing my eyes blearily I looked back down at the computer screen; I must've fallen asleep at the desk, a small pool of drool on the keyboard providing evidence of my nap.

I stretched, hearing my back crack with relief. Slumping forwards, I decided that the metal work-chair wasn't the most comfortable of beds.

On the screen in front of me were the blueprints of a building. The inner floor plan was sure to have had alterations since it's construction; but the original specs were made public to all citizens on Coruscant.

I had memorized the entire map in one night.

Now all I had to do was look, sound, and act like a posh senator convincingly enough to get past some guards. Easy, right? Cake, compared to some of my previous endeavors.

Only this time I had to maintain the guise for two consecutive weeks. It was one thing to impersonate someone for a day or two- it was another to con people for extensive periods of time. Most who tried ended up getting caught over stupid mistakes. Impersonating an official would be sure to land me a few years in prison.

Then again, what I intended to do could get me killed.

My head snapped up at the sound of the backdoor slamming shut- I realized I'd dozed off again from the fresh cramping in my neck.

I heard Baxter snort from somewhere behind me, "Figures you'd be sleeping while I'm out busting my ass."

"Not intentionally," I assured, standing and shaking out my legs, "quiz me?"

Baxter plopped the bag of parts on the desk and slid into my chair, glancing over the blueprints. "Max height?" He asked.

"546 feet tall." My response was instant.

"Widest point?"

"Approximately 1,640 feet give or take seven inches."

"Number of floors?"

"37," I sighed, "I'd like to request the advanced version of the quiz if you don't mind?"

The Echani nodded, "Alright then... Where's the Starfighter hangar?"

"27th floor," I thought for a moment, "West spire."

Baxter nodded, "Training rooms?"

"Sixteenth floor, third hallway, first nine rooms."

"First _seven_ rooms." The mechanic corrected.

I frowned, scanning my memory, "No- first nine rooms. The _holographic_ training area in the east wing has seven rooms."

Baxter smiled, "Damn it- thought I would get you with that one. Oi-! What was that for?" He complained, rubbing the side of his head where I'd smacked him.

"That was for making me second guess myself- you Gearhead."

"They're going to try to catch you off guard, lamebrain! Senators _love_ making themselves feel smarter than everyone else." He responded defensively.

I bit the inside of my lip, "Point taken. Alright- time for the final question."

"Where are the archives?"

"Floors eleven and twelve, two above the agricultural research area, four below the training rooms. Spanning 164 feet by 82 feet. Target room is by the outer halls, shielded by a pair of dilating security doors." I filtered through the various bits of information I'd researched last night, "No guard posts or shifts so I'm guessing some sort of integrated alarm system or intricate locking mechanism."

Baxter nodded, "The intel matches up. Not sure about the alarm but I'll look into it." He flipped through the profiles of senator's I'd pulled up from the database. "Figure out your cover yet?"

I shook my head, joining him at the desk, "Not yet, no. But I was getting close." I pointed to a few of the profiles, "Obviously it'd be hard to impersonate a well known diplomat, so these three are out. An alien disguise would be difficult to keep up so it has to be a humanoid." I moved on to the remaining four options, "And it can't be from a well-known planet either- too many questions would arise at a new face."

"So we're left with two options." Baxter concluded, "Both... males?" The mechanic cast a questioning glance my way, "Why would you even include them in your search, Lyra?"

"Ah-" I smiled, "that's the trick, you see, this one- Zygli Bruss- is severely ill and has yet to declare a stand-in. He's expected to pull through in a month or so, but until then he's stated he will not appoint an acting senator during his absence." I moved on to the other profile, "And Senator Arbo died this past spring. His replacement has yet to be announced and until then, his home world has been testing potential diplomats by sending them to various meetings and counseling sessions. Either one of them," I added, "I could easily use to formulate excuses for my presence. The latter would be the most difficult since I could chance running into the other potential replacements."

Baxter rubbed his temples, "This is getting complicated."

"It's simplistically complex," I amended, leaning against the desk, "My cover is that I'm a stand-in liaison for Senator Bruss. The only reason the decision wasn't made public being that Bruss doesn't like to admit his mistakes." I winked, "Like all diplomats."

Baxter leaned back, folding his arms over his chest, "What are your credentials?"

"I'm a Galactic Liaison in training on Candovant with aspirations of one day accompanying senators on their missions to off world systems. It's my first time at a Coruscant council but my only task is to report back council decisions to Senator Bruss- not to get involved in the discussions myself." I finished. After a moment I added, "And as it's my first time on-world, I'm bound to get lost every once in awhile on the way to the bathroom."

Baxter shook his head, "Not good enough, they wouldn't send a completely green trainee. You'll need _some_ form of prior experience"

I thought for a moment, then said, "I've attended three training conferences on Antar 4, and I was the Candovant representative for the Ison Corridor semi-annual senatorial address."

Baxter frowned, "What the heck is that?"

I shrugged, "No idea, I just made it up." At his reluctant chuckle I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows, "Am I good or am I _good_?"

"You're a good _enough_ conman," Baxter admonished, standing and moving to his bag of goodies, "Now you just need to be outfitted with the right tech."

The next half hour passed by in a blur. Baxter was well and truly in his element as he explained the function of a host of devices, many of which I had used before, and twice as many of which I'd never seen. Mechanics was his domain, and his display of skills peaked as he pulled out a thin card.

"And last but not least," He concluded with dramatic flair, "Your access card."

I took the thin metal rectangle and examined it closely- unlike the one I'd swiped, this ID card was blank, a solid white that was punctuated by only one black word: Guest.

"Isn't there supposed to be... I dunno, a picture on it or a name?" I said doubtfully. Baxter rolled his eyes.

"Where's the 'thank you'? I thought senators were supposed to be polite?"

I flashed my most winning smile, "Thank you, pal. But doesn't it need to look, well, more I-D-ish?"

"I guess we can work on the mannerisms," Baxter muttered before addressing my question, "Naturally, but I couldn't well take a photo when you were drooling on my workbench, now could I? That wouldn't have been a flattering image."

I flushed.

"And we haven't picked out your name yet." He said pointedly.

"Hmm," I tapped my chin, running a host of possible names through my mind. Pacing back and forth I muttered a few suggestions aloud and then shook my head after each one.

After five minutes I stopped and snapped my fingers. Baxter- who'd sat back down- glanced at me, "Got one yet?"

I turned with a sly grin, "Oh yea, I've got the perfect name."

* * *

 _ **Fin! Ooh, the suspense! ;)**_

 _ **Last things,**_

 _ **First, to XscouselondonerX: Ooh yes, these characters have some pretty juicy backstories (actually, I'm still flushing out some of the details for one or two of them, but they will be interesting, that I can promise). So glad you thought they weren't 2-dimensional, that single comment made me whoop aloud- and caused my family to look at me like I was crazy for a moment, hehee. And yes, Skiff IS adorable, in that padawan-like way. Good to know the OC already has a fan ;)**_

 _ **Okay, I have to do some advertising: If anyone is a fan of Rangers Apprentice I started a fanfic called "**_ _ **The Bard, the Thief and the Ranger**_ _ **" just for fun, but it's gotten quite the following so I decided to keep it going. I encourage you to check it out (and even if you haven't read the series it's still a fun read for kids and adults of all ages ;)**_

 ** _Alright, commercial break is done._**

 _ **As always I look forwards to your comments and reviews, they really do make my day/week ^_^**_

 _ **-Ardoa88**_


	4. What Lies in the Library

_**Hello readers!**_

 _ **Quick shoutout before I begin:**_

 _ **Welcome to the following Stormrunner74 and Dinosaur Imperial Soldier! We seven shall rule the galaxy, one story at a time- Muahahaha! Special thanks to Dinosaur Imperial Soldier- Thanks for favoriting this story :D**_

 _ **I'm keeping this brief because I realize it's been a bit longer than a week since I posted... Jun 9 + 7 = Jun 16... oops!**_

 _ **This is why I'm not an engineer ;P**_

 _ **Please enjoy Chapter 4 of Star Wars: A Smuggler's Story!**_

 _ **-Ardoa88**_

* * *

"Eris An-Anaz-"

"Ah-nan-zee," the young diplomat sounded out patiently.

The guard cleared his throat in embarrassment, "Of course, Eris Anansi, from," the padawan peered at the ID card, "Candovant?"

The amber-haired girl smiled, clapping her hands together twice in delight, "Correct!"

The guard coughed and handed back the access card, "Unfortunately Ms. Anansi, your name is not on the list of those allowed into the Jedi Temple."

"Oh I know-" Eris dismissed the concern with a wave, "- I'm a last minute stand in for the Senatorial Council meeting later this evening. And to be honest," she leaned in, "it's my first time on Coruscant." She whispered conspiratorially.

The apprentice gatekeeper frowned, the robed girl before him certainly _looked_ like a diplomat- though her age would suggest otherwise. The padawan could sense that there was something else, a hidden agenda that he wasn't privy to. His training had prepared him to find the hidden intentions of potential intruders, and from what he could sense, the girl before him was _definitely_ hiding something.

"That's all well and good Ms. Anansi, however I still cannot grant you access to the Temple Halls." He said stoically.

The human girl deflated visibly, her disappointment standing strongly in his mind. "Okay." She sighed, smiling in defeat, "It was worth a try. If you must know, I wanted to have a peek in your library."

The guard frowned, "Library?"

Eris sported a matching frown until her face cleared, "Oh, sorry- you call it the Archives, right? It sounds much more official than 'library'." She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "You see, I'm want to be the _best_ Galactic Liaison in the galaxy! And in order to do that I needed to learn about all kinds of things- including the Jedi- so I read every book I could get my hands on. Naturally I scoured the entire Senate Library but all their books are _so_ incomplete- I mean, who doesn't know that the Kurtzen adopted the Bakurian culture after their civil war? And what idiot can't tell that the Thyrsians and Echanni are polar opposites in their appearance? I mean _come on_! You would think someone would proofread those books before they're published, right?"

The girl hasn't stopped to take a breath until then. She looked at him with wide eyes for a full minute before the guard realized the question was directed at him.

"Ah-umm." He was stunned at the amount of unabashed curiosity the girl was able to muster.

" _Exactly_." Eris said with a sigh, "And since this is my first- and maybe only- trip to the Capital of the Galaxy, I thought I'd do as much research as I could while I'm here." She had perked up with enthusiasm when talking about Kurtzens and Thyrsians but her shoulders drooped once again.

"But I guess I got my hopes up too high." Eris concluded sadly. The apprentice felt a tug of guilt at turning down the enigmatic girl. She was so young, maybe not even a year older than he, and yet her ambitions were surprisingly focused and genuine.

"Padawan Jensen! What's the problem?"

The guard looked over at the speaker, "Oh- Nothing, Gate Master Jurokk." The padawan turned back to Eris, "Ms. Anansi, I hope you find what you need in the Archives."

Eris frowned, "Wait, you mean-" she gasped as the realization hit her, a smile breaking across her features, joy filling the empty gap of dismay.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou! You have _no_ idea how much this means to me, if you _ever_ need a liaison in the future I'll be glad to assist you, Gatekeeper Jensen!"

As Eris disappeared into the Jedi Temple, Jensen found himself elated that she thought him a real Gatekeeper and not a mere student. He silently wished her luck as he affixed the stone-like gaze back out towards the street.

* * *

I _almost_ felt bad for how easy it had been to trick that student. Almost- but not quite.

Stepping into the Jedi temple was like stepping onto a different planet. One where the sun shone, the air was fresh, and the buildings were... clean. For a moment, standing in awe under the gaze of the four robed statues, I felt slightly embarrassed to sully the pristine floors with my dirt covered boots.

Then I shook my head, focusing back on my job. Aside from a few aliens here and there in traditional diplomat robes, the main hall was surprisingly empty. For a famous landmark building I'd expected a bit more bustle. Although I didn't mind that no one stopped me on my way to the elevator.

I stepped into the cylindrical metal tube, the doors sliding shut. In contrast from the senate building, these elevators had no outward facing windows; more of a coffin than a machine. Unlike the rickety, sub-level elevators I'd grown accustomed to in the lower floors of Coruscant, the one I occupied barely jolted as it ascended. The ride was so smooth it provided the illusion of being stationary: I didn't even notice it stop, blinking in surprise as the doors swept open to reveal an entirely different area.

Again I had that sense of vertigo- as if the world had changed once more. This hallway was much more active than the ground floor, with senators and Jedi alike traversing from one room to the next, stopping each other in the corridor for a passing word. They acted as if they didn't stand only a thousand floors above a hellhole of crime and poverty; safe in their perfect picture of civilization. Either they didn't know, or- more likely- they didn't care.

I headed toward my destination, acquiring a few curious passing glances. I kept my head raised, eyes affixed ahead of me; in my experience, when trying to sneak into a guarded area, it was best not to look sneaky. A confident air and purposeful stride was all people saw when they looked at me: an appearance of belonging. People rarely questioned those who looked like they knew what they were doing.

The Archives were bigger than I thought. Not that I pictured them to be stuffed in a storage closet, but the amount of datapads on the shelves made each row of knowledge glow with a blue light: one that also emanated from the floor above- it seemed the second level of the Archives was more of a connecting balcony. The architect was a genius, with the support columns doubling as shelves to maximize the room's productivity. Aside from the magnificent domed ceiling and triangular windows- oh, and the fact that it was swarming with Senators and Jedi- it appeared to be just another library. And like any library, the shelves were arranged in an orderly manner, with elliptical computer desks punctuating the center walkway every three rows.

"Can I help you, miss?"

The question pulled me from my thoughts, and I realized I'd been standing in the doorway for quite some time, gawking around like an idiot. The woman who'd spoken to me was wearing dark green robes, decorated with a simple thread pattern. Her graying hair was pulled back in a tight bun and my eyes were drawn to a flash of metal by her waist.

A lightsaber.

"Miss?"

My eyes snapped back up. _What is wrong with me?_ I smacked myself mentally, _Stop spacing out Lyra!_

"O-Oh, hi." I grinned sheepishly, "Sorry, what were you saying?"

The woman smiled with the ease of someone experienced with being patient, "I was wondering if there's anything I can help you find, miss…?"

"Anansi, Eris Anansi, ma'am." I supplied holding out my hand, "I apologize. It's just- well, I've never met a _real_ Jedi Knight before."

"Oh, I'm hardly a Jedi Knight, Ms. Anansi." The older lady flushed at my apparent fascination, grasping the outstretched hand. "I'm merely the Chief librarian."

My eyes widened with childish wonder, "Really? Ah-! Then, perhaps you could help me find some information on tonight's' Council session."

"Intergalactic trade routes and policies?"

"That's the one! I want to make sure what I know matches up with Coruscant's records before the meeting."

The lady looked me up and down, a slight frown tugging at her lips, "Pardon my ignorance Ms. Anansi, but I don't believe I've seen you at the Council meetings before."

I rolled my eyes theatrically at the unasked question, "I've been getting that a lot," I sighed, placing my hands on my hips, "I'm a temporary stand in." The Chief's face cleared in understanding and I smirked inwardly; I was beginning to like this cover.

"I see. My apologies," The lady dipped her head, "Follow me."

"This is a busy place," I commented, casting an appraising look over the room as we walked down the middle isle.

"Naturally," the Chief nodded to a passerby, "the Archives are always a flurry. Today, knowledge has power; it controls access to opportunity and the advancement of oneself. So the saying goes 'Those who have the privilege to know, have the duty to act'."

 _Spoken like a true Jedi_. I thought wearily, as we turned down one of the rows. Unlike the prim and proper Jedi ethics, the saying I'd grown up around was 'Intel about one's enemy is power over their will'.

"Here is the section you're looking for," The librarian gestured to an area of the glowing datapads.

"Jocasta?" The Chief looked up at the call to see a black-robed woman beckoning her, "Sorry to interrupt, but could you help me find information on the Hoth system?"

"I'll be right over, Master Luminara." As the woman disappeared around the shelf, the Chief looked back at me. "I wish you all the best at tonight's meeting, Representative Anansi."

I smiled until she was out of sight, then I dropped the erroneous expression. _People in the upper levels are too damn polite._ I snatched a few random datapads and walked down the center corridor, glancing around to note the slight differences from the original schematics. In my mind, I altered the layout of the memorized map. I was beginning to worry that they had moved my target to an entirely different area until I spotted the circular, metal-grey door; I had to force myself not to sigh in relief. _Found you._ I moved to one of the desks and put down my load, sitting so that I could view the entrance over the top of the datapad. As I read about the trite treaties and dull deals I continued my observation of the doorway.

From my vantage I could tell that there was no access pad, no keyhole, no scanner. Just… a gray door that no one entered. As time elapsed, I began to notice that as people passed by, a series of small red sensors near the bottom of the vestibule would light up in series.

 _Interesting_ , I made a mental note to ask Baxter about the phenomena later.

As the shadows lengthened, my stack of datapads grew ever larger; even though I was still on a job, I knew the value of information in my profession. If I had two weeks of ingress to one of the most extensive banks of intel in the system, you could bet on a Hutts slime trail I wasn't going to waste the opportunity.

I'd just begun reading up on lightsaber construction when someone approached the door. My head slightly bowed, I looked through my side bangs to watch as the Jedi stood before the vault. His back was to me and I watched his arm move ever so slightly.

The dilating doors rolled aside, allowing me a brief glance of the prism-like setup inside. The Jedi stepped through as they closed, leaving me dumbfounded. There hadn't been any key swipe, or number pad. No access card or security code. Not that I could see at least- maybe there was a hidden panel in the door itself? No- the wiring wouldn't be able to handle the strain from opening and closing. _So how did he get inside?_

* * *

"My suggestion then, Master Uvell, would be to read up on the teachings of Surik and her practices."

Uvell looked in surprise at Jocasta, "Surik? As in The Jedi Exi-"

"-Meetra Surik." the Chief librarian interrupted, "the Jedi _Counselor_."

Uvell caught the warning tone in the woman's words and felt her momentary distress at the thought of the title. Surik had been an avid researcher, forming a strong bond with the Chief librarian during her time in the Temple. Even though years had passed, Jocasta still held the young Jedi in high regard.

"Those who have the privilege to know have the duty to act, Master Uvell." She said.

"Of course," The bearded man said with a frown, "But weren't her studies… discontinued?"

Jocasta acknowledged his tact with an appreciative nod, "Many of Revan and Surik's works have left our shelves, but there are a few I saved in the back for teaching purposes." Jocasta gestured to the far side of the Archives, "It would have been a shame to lose the knowledge of ones so… passionate in their studies. It would be tragic to forego any piece of information, for that matter." As a librarian, every loss of knowledge left a hole in her heart- as if she were saying goodbye to a close friend.

"And you think their exercises can aid my apprentice?"

Jocasta nodded slowly, "If under proper tutelage, yes."

Uvell found the publications towards the back of the Archives, stowed away on one of the highest shelves. With practiced ease, the Jedi levitated the datapads down from their vantage point, spending a brief moment scrolling through the writing as he headed for a nearby table.

 _… also known as Jedi Kinship, a force bond is a link through which two force-sensitive individuals can influence each other. Through these connections, we were allowed to bolster each other's strength, and enhance each other's will through meditation. One such speculation claims that Darth Nihilus, skilled in such techniques, was able to reach unmatched levels- forming bands with countless people at once. Rumor holds that during the Battle of Rakata Prime, he had touched the minds of two entire star fleets. For such a thing to be possible would require an incredible …_

Looking up from his reading, Uvell was surprised to find the desk was already occupied by a young girl. At her side was a formidable stack of datapads- if she'd planned on reading the entire bunch, the girl would be here all night.

Strangely, the scholarly teen didn't seem to be reading anything at the moment. Uvell followed her intent gaze to the vault door, her subdued sense of curiosity reaching him even as he set down the two other datapads at her table.

She flinched out of her thoughts, glancing quickly at the new arrival. Her green eyes lingered on the weapon strapped to his belt before looking up at him with a wide-eyed gaze filled with awe.

Uvell smiled politely, "Mind if I sit here?"

"Oh, no- not at all." She moved a few of the datapads to clear some room. The Jedi Master eased himself into the chair, a bout of silence stretching uncomfortably as the two began looking over their respective screens. Master Uvell didn't need the force to sense the tension between them. The girl was obviously not a Jedi- her robes suggested otherwise as did her demeanor- no apprentice would be unsettled by the presence of a Master. She was also very young for a diplomat. Senators sometimes enlisted the aid of prospective acolytes to do basic research for them- heaven forbid they actually do the research themselves; perhaps she was here on behalf of a diplomat? Uvell decided to disregard the evaluation, he had his own work to do. Focusing back on his task, he found that most of the report was a history on how Jedi Kinship influenced the millennia and shaped the Jedi and Sith teachings. At the end, however, was a short analysis of Surik and Revan's experiment.

 _With the force, we could coordinate allies to work together or demoralize opponents. Battle meditation was the tactic used during the warring era to influence armies and fleets in battle: we simplified the process and tested it in the battle rooms. For Revan, who is more talented in combat than I, he was able to increase his efficiency by subtly influencing his opponent's mind to grant an opening. As for me, I found the greater benefit lie in being able to mentally see the battle unfold seconds in advance._

 _In order to hone these skills, we had need to practice regularly. Revan and I both consented to be each other's test dummies. The practice sessions were highly informative, I found that, while in combat, Revan's force awareness was elevated well above his normal capacity. So much so, that..._

Uvell lowered the datapad, frowning at the familiarity of the skillset: Some lingering memory told him this had been attempted before. Maybe Skiff would be able to hone his force sense through combat, then? Uvell knew this venture could possibly backfire, enhancing his apprentices connection to the dark side, but under a baleful eye, maybe...-! The Battle of Kashyyyk!

The girl blinked as the Jedi Master stood and quickly moved down the rows, looking for the war records.

It didn't take the teacher long to find the log, flipping through the files until he reached the Mission to Vjun.

. _..Grand Master Yoda led the 403rd squadron to victory against the sizable force. After the battle it was recorded that many soldiers had felt a surge of strength during critical moments that can only be attributed to their close camaraderie as defenders of the Galactic freedom. Grandmaster Yoda himself added that during times of war, even the most daunting of missions can seem possible with faith in the Force._

So it had been done before. The records didn't _explicitly_ state that it was Force bonding, but all the proper implications were there. Only Master Yoda had boosted an entire unit with the bonding and not simply himself. Considering the new development in his research, Uvell made his way back to the table, surprised to find the girl leaning over the datapad he'd left behind. Approaching silently, the girl jumped as he said, "Find something interesting?"

Her face was red as he reclaimed his seat, looking like a guilty child caught in the act of doing something her parents had just told her not to do. But the moment passed and she composed herself quickly, replying, "I just wasn't aware the Jedi make use of Sith teachings."

Uvell raised an eyebrow, "Sith teachings?"

"Well," The girl shrugged, "I guess the authors aren't _technically_ classified as Sith; although the term 'Jedi Exile' makes it sound like they are."

After a moment, the Jedi said,"There is much we can learn from the mistakes of others." Uvell responded simply, glancing at the datapad in her hand. "I wasn't aware that Senators were interested in lightsaber construction."

"Well then," she smiled, "I'm honored to have taught a Jedi Master something. Another Jedi once told me that in today's society knowledge has power; it controls access to opportunity and the advancement of oneself. Do you have the time?"

Uvell was caught off guard by the abrupt question, "About half past six, I believe."

"Half past… Crud, I'm behind schedule! They told me to be there no later than six forty-five." The girl stood to leave then stopped, looking back at the stack of datapads and biting her lip. "I should probably put those back…"

"I'll return them to their shelves for you."

"You will?" Her eyebrows raised at the offer, "Thanks, I'll owe you one!"

As the girl disappeared down the hallway, Uvell turned back to the stack she'd been reading; curious as to what information the acolyte had been sent to gather. Aside from Lightsaber construction, the girl had taken out datapads entitled, 'Basic Force Skills and Training Techniques', 'Dangers of Tampering with the Dark Side', 'Botany for the City-Bound', 'The Artisan Trade: A complete guide', 'Advances in Mechanised Travel', 'Know your Senator: A detailed record of the Galactic Senate', 'Intergalactic Trade Policies', and 'Planetary Statistics of the Inner and Mid-Rim Systems'. Uvell sat back, completely and thoroughly stumped.

 _Who was that girl?_

* * *

 **Fin! Hope you enjoyed!**

 _ **When I was writing this story out I'd never imagined I'd be posting it to fanfiction so I wasn't too concerned about cannon references (hence Lyra's undercover name not being easily recognizable to fans) so I do apologize for that. I've got maybe one more chapter pre-written and after that I will be writing with more of the fan-service mindset, so hang in there guys^_^**_

 **Some final things,**

 **First to XscounselondonerX: Sadly, breaking into the most secure vault in the Jedi Temple is going to take a little longer than four chapters ^_^ Trust me, I wanna see how this plays out just as much as you, but the writer in me is like "Wait! Don't rush!" I hope you found this chapter just as fulfilling, though :) Our MC's are all starting to gather.**

 **Next, to Stormrunner74: Thanks for the review, glad you like it thus far ^_^**

 **Fathers day weekend is upon us! And in the words of Luke Skywalker: "NOOOOooooooooo!" I hope you all have a great weekend and even if your father cuts off your hand with his lightsaber, remember- deep down, he loves you.**

 **As always I await your critiques and comments,**

 **-Ardoa88**


	5. Senators and Sealed Doors

_**Hello readers!**_

 _ **THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO STORMRUNNER74**_

 _ **(Decided to put it in all caps so people would see ;)**_

 _ **But seriously, if you enjoy this next chapter it's all because this person gave me a great- no, BRILLIANT idea and kindly allowed me to take it and run. The entire first half of this chapter evolved from that idea; one simple concept written out in one perfect sentence.**_

 _ **Allow me to explain: As I've mentioned, I started writing this without a clue as to when in the Star Wars universe it was taking place. As such, I didn't plan on cannon references and characters. BUT! stormrunner74 asked me what year this was taking place in or around and I decided it would be somewhere either during or before the prequel Star wars movies, but before order 66 and the rise of the Empire. Sith and Crime lords were the main baddies of the time (in my mind).**_

 _ **And with this realization came the perfect idea of stormrunner74 which you shall soon (hopefully) enjoy. So, THANK YOU! From me and any fan who laughs or smiles in the next few moments.**_

 _ **I present to you, Chapter 5 of Star Wars: A Smuggler's Story**_

 _ **-Ardoa88**_

 _ **p.s. early post is due to a REALLY busy week schedule (I might get another chapter out by Friday but no promises)**_

* * *

The Senate building was aptly situated in the center of the Senate District; a mere twenty minutes away from the Jedi Temple via speeder. Senators and Ambassadors from neighboring and far-off planets made their temporary residence in the nearby skyscrapers that stretched far above the Coruscant skyline. This made travel to and from the meetings quite convenient for any off-world inhabitant.

Aside from the large council chamber situated in the hub of the domed building, the Senate tower contained over a hundred other meeting rooms. Ranging from small, cozy consulting areas to long hallways with stadium-like seats, to humble accommodations with straight-backed chairs and large rounded tables. The only time the main chamber was used was for galaxy-wide matters concerning key policies and decisions; besides, maintaining the functionality of all 2,708 hover pads called for two, week-long, around-the-clock maintenance crews.

Since that room was often closed, Senator Amidala was currently making her way to one of the larger side chambers, a towering stack of dockets supported by a pair of dainty- but determined- wrists. With a glare at her companion she growled, "You know, some help would be appreciated."

Anakin frowned thoughtfully, "Funny, I could've sworn that just this morning you were saying you could handle this all by yourself."

Padme rolled her eyes, "I had been referring to the research portion. Which, I'd like to point out, I _did_ do all by myself while a certain Jedi bodyguard was napping."

"I was _meditating_."

"Really?" Padme raised an elegant eyebrow, "Then I truly must get someone to remove the Taun Taun from my quarters."

"I don't snore." Anakin mumbled, feeling his face redden.

"Heavens no, that would mean you were asleep, which- as you so aptly put it- you weren't." Deciding to drop the matter the senator returned her focus to _not_ dropping the stack of papers in her arms. "Couldn't you use the force to just levitate these to the meeting room?" She asked politely.

But Anakin wasn't going to give in so easily, not after she'd mocked him for getting a few hours of shut-eye: Who did she think he had been up guarding all night?

"I'm afraid not." Anakin shook his head, "The easy road is a path to the dark side. Master Obi-Wan is quite fond of that one."

Shifting the weight onto her right arm Padme scoffed, "And since when did you start listening to your Master?" Anakin chose, wisely, not to respond to that one, and the senator soon chuckled at his silence. "Still," She said, sobering up, "I never dreamed that being the mid-rim majority leader involved so much paperwork."

"And _I_ didn't realize how dull politics could be."

Padme looked over to shoot back an, undoubtedly, snide remark as they turned the corner, when she felt her body connect with a smaller frame, sending both collision victims crashing to the polished floor. Folders and research binders toppled in a flurry and, as the Senator propped herself up on one elbow, they calmly fluttered to the floor. Anakin was at her side in an instant.

"Pad- Senator Amidala, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Padme replied, sitting up and nursing her throbbing knees, which had taken the brunt of her impact with the ground. It was only as she took the Jedi's offered hand that she realized the other casualty. The girl she'd run into had also managed to raise herself off the ground, one hand pressed to the floor while the other rubbed her forehead. Strands of her amber hair had slipped out of a tight bun, and her homely robes were now rumpled and lopsided.

"Ow." The girl said pointedly, her hand moving from her forehead to the back of her neck, "This is why I _hate_ sharp corners, you can never see what's-" Her muttering cut off as she finally looked up to see the other Senator and Jedi standing before her, "coming…"

After a moment of awkwardly staring at one another, Padme broke the silence, stooping down and offering a hand to the girl, "My apologies, I should've been paying more attention. Are you alright?"

"A-ah, yes, yes I'm… I'm fine, thank you." Ignoring the hand the girl quickly stood, readjusting and dusting off her robes. Her eyes alighted on the strewn papers and she covered her mouth in delicate shock, "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize… I'm _so_ sorry. Here let me help you pick these up."

Padme smiled easily, bending down to do the same, "Thank you, I appreciate it."

Near the end of the task, the girl stopped, her eyes skimming over one of the proposals. "Is this… are you headed to the Intergalactic Trade Routes and Policies meeting?" at the elder Senator's nod the girl smiled, "I'm relieved, you have no idea how embarrassing it would be to get lost on your first day."

As they stood back up Padme realized the girl was half a head shorter than herself; the meeting was strictly for mid and outer rim senators, many of whom Padme had met before- and all of whom were taller than her. She and Anakin exchanged a glance. "Pardon my asking," Padme began, "But aren't you a bit-"

The girl held up her hand to cut off the Senator's words, "I'm a stand in." She explained simply, her tone tinged with exasperation. Padme got the feeling she'd given such an answer numerous times before now.

"Ah," Padme frowned, "Who are you standing in for?"

"Senator Bruss."

"Bruss?" The name sounded vaguely familiar, "I thought he wasn't declaring a stand in?"

The girl shrugged as they began walking, "Officially, yes. But he still wants to keep tabs on any new developments. I'm not to provide input on any of the meetings, just record and report back to him."

That made sense, Padme thought with a nod. It wasn't uncommon for Senators on leave to send aides to meetings. Aside from holograms it was one of the other secure ways to stay up-to-date with council decisions. "So this is your first time on Coruscant?"

The girl nodded, then her curiosity spiked and she asked, "Do negociations really work with so many people in one room?"

Padme frowned, "What do you mean?"

"Well, typically if there's more than a handful of people, nothing ever gets decided on. At least from what I've seen." The girl added quickly.

Padme thought for a moment, "Discussing major changes with world leaders can be progressive, though I do admit it can take a while."

"I prefer aggressive negotiation tactics." Anakin commented.

The girl frowned, "I don't think I've heard of that before. How _does_ one aggressively negotiate?"

Anakin smiled, "With a lightsaber, of course." Padme rolled her eyes but the girl chuckled. After another minute of walking in silence the girl piped up again, curious about the paper she'd seen while playing pick-me-up.

"So... is that proposal to ban all Cm-77 and other high grade rifles from inner-rim territories real?"

Padme blinked, taking a moment to recall the short doctrine, "Yes, it is a genuine topic of interest."

"That's stupid."

Padme closed her mouth, having been about to explain the intricacies of tracking Criminal Underlords and smuggled shipments. Anakin was just as surprised.

"Oh, yea?" He remarked sarcastically, "How is it stupid? Enlighten me, since you seem to be so well informed."

The girl looked the Jedi over before taking a breath and launching into a brief lecture, "It's stupid because even if someone were to get their hands on those weapons they'd be practically useless without the proper ammunition. Cm-77's and other high grade rifles can only fire armor-piercing bullets: which is what makes them so dangerous in the first place. It's also the reason why such bullets were outlawed in the inner and mid rim territories by a policy passed last year." The girl rattled off. She drew a quick breath and continued, "I can't recall much of the specifics but I'm pretty sure that in article two, section seven, paragraph… three? I believe. It explicitly states that any persons dealing in or containing armor-piercing bullets on their person or in their home will be persecuted for a class five violation of trade laws."

The girl looked over at the dumbstruck Jedi, "So you see, banning the weapons themselves is a stupid move because even if one _did_ obtain the rifles, they wouldn't be able to acquire the ammunition." She shrugged and concluded, "The proposal itself is just a waste of time."

It took a full ten seconds for Anakin to snap out of his stupor, "What did you say your name was, kid?"

The girl tucked a strand of amber hair behind her ear, "I didn't. Manners dictate that one must first provide their own name before asking for that of another."

Padme smiled, this girl was smart, clever, and clearly not afraid to speak her mind. Anakin must've been thinking along the same lines because he looked between the two politicians and groaned, "Great, now there's _two_ of them."

Stifling a laugh, Padme smiled at the girl. "I'm Senator Amidala, and this is Anakin Skywalker," She introduced with a nod to her Jedi bodyguard. "And you are?"

"Eris," The girl smiled softly, "Eris Anansi, from Candovant."

* * *

Baxter was working on an Aerobike, a beautiful, sleek Ts-98; complete with a titanium alloy body and two 4L4 fusial thrust engines. The bike could reach a top atmospheric speed of 150 knots- 170 when he finished modifying it. It was his pride and joy: his masterpiece.

Which was why he was gonna _kill_ Lyra when she got back.

He was adjusting the photon capacitor when he received her call. The sudden noise made him flinch in surprise, tugging the bolt loose and resulting in the thin connecting rod slipping from it's perch. Baxter let out a curse as he rolled out from under his project, inspecting the dented piece with a critical eye. The handmade part had been specially fitted, it had taken him a week to ensure its perfection, and now... it would need to be replaced; the capacitor was salvageable, but the delicate rod was bent out of proportion. With a growl of frustration, Baxter tossed the grease rag down, placing the damaged part on his workbench before answering the holo.

The blue hologram expanded until a girl in diplomatic robes stood before him on the desk.

"Took you long enough." The girl crossed her arms, "I was beginning to think you weren't at the shop."

"Ly-Eris," Baxter caught himself, "How goes it?"

Lyra frowned at his slip but let it go, "Senate meeting just ended- bunch of idiots all trying to talk over one another; so much so that nothing was accomplished."

"Sounds like you're having fun." Baxter said tightly, "Anything else? I was in the middle of an important project. So if you just called to tell me senate meetings bore you to death..." If that was all she wanted to talk about, Baxter swore by the seven rings of Tarun he'd-

"Of _course_ there's more, lamebrain. Or else I wouldn't have risked a call."

"Then get. To. The. Point." Baxter had to fight to keep from screaming at her in frustration.

"I've got a new project for you." Lyra glanced around on her end, "The target room has no keypad, no access code, no scanner- nothing. Only a series of blinking red lights at the bottom of the door-"

 _That's probably the security system_.

"-which is probably the alarm system. Oh- and the area is always swarming with officials." Lyra concluded.

"That's all, eh? I'll look into it." Baxter assured, "But I'm more concerned with the no-keypad nor access code part. How would they get in?"

"I'm not sure." Lyra admitted, "That's what I'll need to find out." Her figure on the holo looked left, "People are coming: gotta go. Good luck!"

"You too." Baxter said as the connection went dark. With a sigh, the mechanic sat down in the work-chair, rubbing his face and glancing at the clock on the wall. He'd planned to finish the modifications on the Aerobike by 10:00, now that he was behind schedule and with the added challenge of disabling, and breaking into, what was shaping up to be the most perplexing vault in the Galaxy... He sighed again- another all nighter awaited him.

 _What_ had he gotten himself into?

Bending over the holoscreen, Baxter began researching the different high-tech security mods used by wealthy patrons. Legal modifications, mind- not the shady gadgetry sold in the underworld.

As he started a search of the database, his mind worked on the puzzle of the door- more specifically, how to get _in_. Lyra had said the room was crawling with busybodies so that eliminated the possibility of splicing it or just blasting the door off its hinges. _If it even_ had _hinges_ , Baxter frowned. And the ventilation shafts were too small to crawl through unless you were-

Baxter blinked, getting an idea. He moved over to the west wing of his shop, looking through the parts that lay in an organized clutter on the floor. If he could rig a small droid to infiltrate the vault and unlock it from the inside, then maybe... He rushed back to the computer screen and pulled up the blueprint file. As he looked over the schematics, his budding plan began to wilt. The shafts had been upgraded ever since the first Jedi Purge, when the enemy had used an airborne drug to hinder the temple's occupants before the onslaught. Now the narrow tubes were no longer jointly connected throughout the temple: each collection of rooms held their own separate ventilation so that no toxic chemicals could be spread throughout the entire temple from one entry point. Instead, any airborne threat could be contained, sealed off to keep the other wings safe. And the vault room had it's own private system.

Baxter massaged his head: Of course it would be _Lyra_ who would pick the one job that couldn't be solved with simple mechanics and a well placed detonator.

The screen blipped to inform him that the search engine had finished looking through the database of alarm systems. Baxter closed the blueprints, hoping to finally get some good news, or, at least something he could work with.

Hope was what he soon lost all consideration of after reading the results.

It turned out that Baxter _had_ heard of the security system before. Of course he knew it by the underworld name: 'The Undetectable Alarm'. A series of gridded laser overlays invisible to the naked eye that went through a random sequence of movement every ten seconds. They responded to a certain code, preset by the user, and if the alarm was tripped by using the incorrect method, it would send a silent alert via commlink. The more advanced versions could be programmed to lock the door once tripped, sealing in any intruder.

On the flipside, maybe they were just a bunch of random blinking lights at the bottom of an important vault door. But Baxter shook away the misplaced optimism. Highly unlikely, unless they were emergency lights. He sighed and wiped some grime off his face- only to succeed in leaving more gunk on his dark skin. Finally he came to his first solid conclusion since taking the job:

He wasn't getting paid enough.

* * *

 _ **Fin!**_

 _ **Thank you for reading. Again, if you enjoyed this installment please thank my good friend stormrunner74 for his/her inspiration.**_

 _ **Final things,**_

 _ **First, to XscounselondonerX: I'm glad you agree, I also find it much more compelling when writers take their time, and I know it's definitely a highlight of writing to see readers itching to read the next chapter. So long as the climax isn't drawn out too terribly much, anyway. I'm glad you liked the last chapter- the cameo appearances were slipped in last minute at your earlier suggestion. Hopefully you enjoyed these familiar faces as well ^_^ I also noticed you haven't posted to namesake in a while- finals will do that to ya, so no worries ;) but I stay ever alert for the next post :)**_

 _ **Next, to Stormrunner74: Again, thank you! As promised I will be answering your question (even though we already discussed it in length via PM). This fanfic is set somewhere along the timeline of the prequels where the empire hasn't risen to full power, Order 66 has yet to be executed, and Crime lords and the Sith are the biggest Big Bads in the SW universe for now.**_

 _ **Also, just an authors mention, I'm trying to write Anakin out to be more like how he is in the Clone Wars TV series (or at least the first few seasons). Because his prequel years... weren't his strongest. Please let me know what you thought. Do you like this version? Is he not fawning over Padme enough? Is he not angry enough? I know you only have one scene to go off of but if you see any discrepancies with the character portrayal please feel free to mention it ^_^**_

 _ **That goes for any character (even the OC's, though I ask you give them a**_ **bit _more leeway._** **)**

 _ **As always I look forwards to your comments and critiques.**_

 _ **-Ardoa88**_


	6. A Half-Pint Premonition

_**Hello readers!**_

 _ **Looks like I was able to do it! YAY!**_

 _ **Happy Fedora Friday! Please enjoy the next installment of Star Wars: A Smuggler's Story.**_

 _ **-Ardoa88**_

* * *

Skiff's head was going to explode if he had to listen to another senator grumble on about not being given adequate floor time. He was beginning to doubt that Master Gallia's training was helping him hone his mind sense.

 _'Sit in on the Senate council session tonight,' Master Gallia said, 'attempt to gain insight to their thoughts before they speak. If what they say coincides with the sense you gathered, you will know the attempt was a success.'_

 _'But Master,' Skiff frowned, 'reading a Senator's' mind… isn't that... ah, discouraged?'_

 _Master Gallia shook her head, 'Senators make for good practice subjects, so long as you don't try to influence their decisions you will have broken no law; for tonight, try to read their emotions. Did a decision upset them, are their thoughts in conflict with other diplomats? Senators lack the mental defense we Jedi train to maintain, they are also unable to use the force- so any practicing you do will go undetected. Most importantly,' the Master smiled, 'no one can understand the mind of a Senator.'_

The last bit of advice had held true, throughout the entire meeting he hadn't understood a single word of what they were talking about- mostly because they never talked about the main topic; instead choosing to bicker about minor details such as speaking time and proper political etiquette. Even now, after the session had ended, their overpowering impressions of annoyance and agitation riddled the apprentice's mind.

He decided it was time to return to the Temple when a sudden wave of cold, calculating thought washed over the padawan. Skiff looked up as a tall bearded man in grey robes approached a young female diplomat. His back was to the apprentice so Skiff couldn't make out who the new arrival was. Judging by his posture- nose in the air, shoulders rolled back, and a confident stance- the man had his own personal agenda with the younger representative.

"So you're the stand-in who had the halls all abuzz." The man said, his voice smooth and silky. "My regard to Senator Bruss, I hope he enjoys a speedy recovery- not that you did a bad job in there. You were quite impressive for your first official council."

The younger representative looked up in confusion, an amused smile on her lips, "But I didn't say anything, Senator Roland."

Skiff nearly groaned aloud. Not this prat. Forget devious and scheming, Senator Roland was infamous even among the padawans as a bootlicker. No doubt he had the same thing in mind now, attempting to flatter the poor girl with praise until she would be in his good graces.

"Ah," Roland tipped his head, "You'll come to learn that, sometimes, saying nothing is much more effective than speaking."

"I'll keep it in mind." Skiff could sense Roland's panicked distress at the dismissive comment. The padawan was surprised that the girl didn't giggle and blush at the praise, as most new diplomats would've. The dull throbbing at the base of his skull told Skiff that this conversation wasn't going as planned for the older man.

"Is- Is this your first trip to Coruscant, Representative Anansi?" The bearded man asked, stumbling in his hurry to reclaim her attention.

"Yes." The girl's responses were getting shorter and shorter but Roland didn't seem to notice, continuing with enthusiasm.

"Then you would honor me if you allowed me to treat you to some of the finer delicacies this planet has to offer."

"I wasn't sent here to go on a spending spree, Senator." Skiff chocked down a snicker. So Anansi was her name? The young representative was impressive, definitely a far cry from the hopefuls who typically sat in on council sessions. "But please, feel free to spend your money on whatever trinkets and bobbles you want."

Anansi was able to keep the trace of annoyance out of her voice, although the gleam in her eye should've clued the older man in that she wasn't interested. It was quite an entertaining exchange, but it still gave Skiff a massive headache.

"Consider it payed for," Roland waved away the concern, ushering the girl towards the exit. "I'm intrigued to know what your views are on inter-rim conflicts, I've heard that a particularly nefarious bunch has been exploiting the Deltian system. I've been working on a relief policy, you see, nothing much, but every little bit helps, I'm sure Bruss would agree..."

The Senator's voice faded in the distance, his ego-inflated sense of success becoming less prominent in the padawan' mind with every step. Even as they left, Skiff could see Anansi's gait was rigid with displeasure. She'd make a terrible diplomat if she kept that up. First lesson of politics was it's _who_ you know that elevates one's status. With a groan, Skiff sat back; maybe _now_ he could finally get some peace and-

 _"Hey! That guy stole my wallet!"_

Skiff jerked up looking around quickly only to find he was alone in the hallway. His head throbbed. That voice had sounded like... But that was impossible, they'd just left-

 _"I had_ everything _under control!"_

With a wince, the young apprentice raised a hand to his head, closing his eyes as a series of images flashed through his brain.

 _An ominous gaze watched the two senators as they exited the bar... "You're gonna get us killed if you pull a stunt like that!" The young diplomat hissed... A dark skinned alien pulled the sheet off of a large object... Looking down the barrel of a gun Skiff saw an orange light flare from within..._

With a gasp, Skiff was yanked out of the vision, his heart beating rapidly and his breathing unsteady. The inexperienced padawan knew of the Force Sight, the ability to catch glimpses of future or past events, but he'd never _experienced_ one before. Recalling the flickers of memory, Skiff only found more questions than answers. One thing, however, was abundantly clear.

Those diplomats were in danger.

* * *

I was never a fan of bars. Sure, I used them, they were a good source of information and- in my profession- it was difficult not to go into one every other day or two. Cantina's weren't all bad and, aside from the smell, they could come in handy for a job; the packed, alien filled rooms provided easy cover for transactions, and the continual flow of alcohol kept people's tongues loose. Still, I could never feel truly at ease knowing that anyone could have a gun trained at my back. Out of habit, my right hand lingered by my waist; but there was no weapon for me to draw comfort from.

 _Diplomats don't carry pistols in the senate district._

Baxter may have been right, but that didn't mean I had to like it. I felt naked without them, as if a big target was painted on my forehead, informing the world of my defenselessness. Fortunately, there was a bigger target in the room: _unfortunately_ , he was sitting next to me.

"So then he says, 'Roland, how'd you come up with that figure, you didn't even inspect the damages?' Then I," The Senator drained the rest of his wine, spilling a bit on his coat. "Get this- I said, '1,000 credits for you, 1,000 for me, and we get the Rhodian to fix the spaceport.' He shook my hand on the spot for that deal. _On the spot_! Ha!"

He lifted the glass to his lips and frowned at the fact that it was now empty.

I offered an empty smile, looking around the taproom. _And of all the bars on the planet he had to pick this one?_ The name of our current residence was _The Topped Tankard_ , a well-known local tap whose goods and services were the best match of quality for cost, be it alcohol or other… less-than-lawful matters. The lighting was perfect, a deep blue-purple hue, bright enough to read the menu but dark enough for shadows to linger on the face. My eyes trailed a few of the waiters and serving girls: The latter were a bit clumsy in their task, constantly stumbling or bumping into patrons. There were many bows and 'Sorry Sir's circulating as they went- but they never dropped whatever they were holding, be it plates, empty glasses or recently refilled ones.

Their pickpocketing skills were flawless. A credit or two here, a decicreed there, taking a little from each occupant- save those in the corner booths. Those seats were permanently reserved; leased to merchants and entrepreneurs who paid a small fee to the owner. In return, they and their customers were to be left undisturbed, allowing the pickpockets to focus on their main source of revenue: drunkards. With alcohol muddling the mind, the servers could take greater risks, and if caught- have a better chance of bluffing their way out. Although, the waitresses rarely got caught: they were masters of their craft.

They had to be to work for the Barkeep. A portion of their lifting would be given to him as homage for allowing them to work and practice the skill openly. The Barkeep was fair though, a solid 70-30 split for all the waitresses: with the larger portion naturally going to the Barkeep himself. That was all I'd ever known him by, and all I probably ever would. My gaze swept to the wide shouldered Besalik as he laughed, pouring another drink for a clearly drunk patron. His other three arms were busy wiping down the counter space and cleaning dishes.

A newcomer in light brown robes sat a few seats down to my left, calling over the Barkeep to order a Fauxjito. I raised an eyebrow, it wasn't often you saw someone go to a bar to get a non-alcoholic brew. The kid was young, maybe my age, but down here, the law was loosely followed. I fingered my own glass of Abafar Ale, swirling around it's murky contents; unlike my companion, my glass was only half empty. For a moment, I wondered if the Barkeep would recognize me after all these years- probably not, I'd grown up a lot since then.

"What's a lifeform like you doing in a dump like this?"

I looked up. The idiot who'd opened his mouth was leaning against the bar, a thick leather jacket slung across his shoulder. His hair, tinged teal in the light, was gelled back and a thin mustache showed beneath a long nose. The human's eyes were a warm brown, but his gaze betrayed him. It was the look of a mandalorian whose armor was just stolen.

At my silence he flashed an easy smile, "C'mon darl'n, I'm sorry if I startled you. I didn't mean nothin' by it. I'm Darwin. Me and some of my friends were about to go visit the top level, watch the stars for a bit, get some fresh air, ya' know? I was wonderin' if you'd like to join us."

His breath stank of ale.

At my continued lack of reaction his lips twitched, "Don't be like that darl'n, you have any _idea_ how hard it was to get an access like that? And we're good comp'ny. More pleasurable than this fella' here at least." He gestured to the drunken diplomat who'd taken to talking with the unconscious customer.

My eyes followed for a brief moment only to snap back around as he took my wrist- gripping it hard. The light danced in his eyes, a purple flame that wouldn't be quelled. "We insist."

I put my hand on his, smiling dangerously. "I'll have to pass, I don't fraternize with strangers."

And with that I twisted his pinky back, causing the suave young man to howl like a little girl. More than a few heads turned in our direction as I let go, the man wringing out his hand for a moment before looking up at me. The malice in his eyes finally shone through in his demeanor as he gripped my shoulder hard. I grinned at the implication.

I always enjoyed a good bar fight.

"You little _bitch_ _,_ " He hissed, pulling out an old switchblade, "I'll-"

"-Leave my bar? Sounds like a great plan." We both looked over at the Barkeep who raised his eyebrows in question, "Unless you _want_ to have a few holes in your chest before you go. First _shot's_ on me."

The ominous click of a gun from under the bar solidified Darwin's answer; he swallowed hard, "Of course not," he said, letting go of me, "No harm done, right buddy? Just a friendly disagreement between pals."

My gaze didn't soften until the door swung shut behind him.

The Barkeep looked around the unusually quiet room, "A round on the house!" He declared, waving all four of his arms in a dramatic flair. The taproom cheered, soon returning to it's normal noisy demeanor.

"Thank you sir." I said politely, brushing the bangs out of my eyes.

" _Sir_?" The Barkeep laughed so loud his stomach rumbled from the exertion. "Since when have you ever called me sir? Ahahahaa! You crack me up, Half-Pint."

I rolled my eyes at the nickname, remembering when I'd first chosen it. It wasn't long after I arrived on Coruscant, I didn't have money or a job or an ounce of an idea of what to do with my life. So I stole. Worked pretty well until I tried to steal in the _Topped Tankard_ cantina- Ooh was that a mistake. I thought for sure the Barkeep would turn me in but instead, he asked me what my name was. At the time, he was having a half-pint special on jawa juice, and in my frantic state I blurted out the first thing I could think of.

 _"Half-Pint?" The Barkeep raised an eyebrow, "Well then,_ Half-Pint, _tell ya what. Come back when you're good at lifting creds and I'll offer you a job."_

The Barkeep was good on his word, and half a year later I was working for him.

"So what've you been up to, Half-Pint? Them's some real fancy robes you're sportin'."

His question returned me to the present. Before answering, I looked over at my companion, but the senator was deeply engrossed in his conversation with the sleeping alien. "I'm on a job, Barkeep. One that requires... discretion."

"Ah," the Barkeep nodded in understanding, lowering his voice. "Who's your employer?"

"Nada'la."

The glass he'd been cleaning clattered to the counter.

"That _witch_? Half-Pint, have you lost it?" He whispered fiercely. "Nothing ends well with _her_."

"I know what I'm doing Barkeep," I assured, taking a sip of the ale. It tasted the way Baxter's cleaning fluid smelled. In other words, the Barkeep had improved his recipe since my last visit.

With a skeptical look, the Barkeep picked up the fallen cup, inspecting a small spider crack that had formed on the base. "I hope you do Half-Pint, I hope you do."

* * *

 ** _Fin! Thank for reading._**

 ** _Final things._**

 ** _First, to stormrunner74: Glad you liked part 1 ;) And I'm happy to see the second half kept you interested as well. Thank you so much for the continued reviews! They always make me smile ^_^_**

 ** _Next, to Random person: If you've made it this far you will see that Anakin and Padme were introduced last chapter ;) and I made a cameo with Luminara in a previous chapter as well. I'm sorry if you were expecting more cannons up until now- as I've mentioned before this story was written without the mindset of posting to fanfiction so the pre-written chapters I have posted thus far wont have many callbacks to the shows/books/movies. HOWEVER! Going forwards I do intend to write in some of those cannons (as seen last chapter) as I am now writing for fanfiction. I only ask that you please continue to read :) Thank you for the review, I look forwards to your continued support ^_^_**

 ** _That's all for today. I hope you all have a wonderful weekend (mine will be spent at a National Guard Drill- aka death by pushups _)!_** ** _Anyone seen 'Finding Dory' yet? I'm gonna go see it Sunday- NO SPOILERS! Shhhh. ;)_**

 ** _As always I encourage you to review- please please please pleasepleasepleasePLEASE review!_**

 ** _-Ardoa88_**


	7. Beer and Brainstorming

_**Hello readers!**_

 ** _One shoutout today, Thank you, KOTORFanatic! for joining the empire- I mean, the following ;) One more and we will have secured ten followers ^_^_**

 ** _And welcome readers from Hong Kong and Sweeden! So glad you found this Fanfic, Hope you enjoy it!_**

 ** _Other than that I don't have much to say except..._**

 ** _Please enjoy chapter 7 of Star Wars: A Smuggler's Story!_**

 ** _-Ardoa88_**

* * *

Skiff sipped at his Fauxjito, focusing all his concentration on not making a face at the disgusting drink. It was like a cross between carbonated lemon water and yogan-berry juice; both of which he disliked, but it was the only non-alcoholic drink on the menu. There hadn't been any time to tell Uvell of his vision, he'd barely made it in time to follow the diplomat's shuttle, let alone place a holocall to inform his master of this strange development.

He glanced to the side, his eyes casting a suspicious gaze at the diplomats. The older man, Roland, had clearly had one two many, as he began talking to the passed out patron on his right. The girl remained alert however, her eyes sweeping around the bar with an almost sentimental glint to them. He quickly turned back to his drink as her gaze moved in his direction, instead focusing on the four-armed bartender. He was a mix between a frog and a snake, Skiff finally decided.

Every time he breathed the large skin sac under his mouth swelled, inflating to various sizes based on his air intake. The armor-like skin formed ridges above his narrow eyes, and his wide mouth combined with the overall image to remind the Padawan of the slithering Sliths that inhabited the wildlands of Kashyyyk. The bartender's jolly mood was the only piece that didn't suit his appearance.

Skiff opened his mind slowly, attuning to any malcontent in the immediate area. A threat would be easier to sense than to see. The student found that drunks were easier to read, their minds were muddled from alcohol which opened themselves to their true nature. Roland, for instance, was very disappointed that his attempt to woo the young representative had failed. Knowing the senator, he'd wanted to use her connections to earn favor with the diplomat she was standing in for. Such was the mind of a politician. Skiff took another sip from his cup, keying in on a strong sense of malignin approaching the diplomats. His hand shifted under the counter to the cool touch of his lightsaber.

 _Only if necessary_ , he reminded himself as the new arrival struck up a conversation with Representative Anansi.

Not much of a conversation, the man did most of the talking, and with every passing moment his hostility grew. Over the noise, Skiff could only make out bits and pieces of what he was saying, something about stars… and fresh air.

"We _insist_."

Skiff flinched at the bitterness in his tone, the words accompanied by an almost feral, possessive need to get the resistive girl alone. Skiff's eyes darted to the diplomats, his grip tightening on his weapon. Then he blinked as Anansi responded with the same amount, if not more, acrimony in her voice.

"I'll have to pass, I don't fraternize with strangers."

Not a second later the man jerked back, howling like a Nexu as he grasped his hand. The wave of hostility Skiff felt certainly matched that of a ferocious cat-like beast. Skiff was not the only occupant staring in curiosity at the commotion. The man looked down and hissed- but Skiff couldn't see what Anansi had done. Did she shoot him? But that was absurd, senators didn't carry weapons. And he'd not heard any blaster fire.

"You little _bitch_ ," These was a glint as light struck metal. Skiff eyes flicked the the blade in his hands, the padawan stood up quickly, "I'll-"

"-Leave my bar?" The bartender intervened, "Sounds like a great plan. Unless you _want_ to have a few holes in your chest before you go. First shot's on me."

After a tense moment, the man muttered something but left quickly, two other occupants trailing him as he exited. Skiff released a breath- not realizing he'd been holding it- and sat back down, hooking his lightsaber back onto his belt.

"A round on the house!" The barkeeper declared, sending the waitresses flurrying around the room as cheers rang to the rafters.

Skiff took a moment to calm his nerves, but his hand was still trembling as he took his cup. He looked down at the appendage, lost in thought. He'd practiced day and night for the past decade and a half, honing his battle skills. Although a fair amount of them were disarming techniques, the prospect of possibly taking another person's life hadn't really occurred to him. He realized with a start that he was terrified of the idea that he might have to kill someone. After a long swig of the disastrous drink, he found himself more in control and was able to look up.

The bartender and the young diplomat were deep in conversation, the bartender laughing heartily at something Anansi said. The girl looked quite pleased but that's all Skiff saw before a foaming mug was shoved under his nose by a passing waitress.

"Oh, s'cuse me ma'am," Skiff said, "But I'm underage, I can't have alcohol."

"Not here you're not," The waitress, a thinly dressed green Twi'lek, gave him a wink. When Skiff made no move to take the ale she pouted, "You wouldn't want to insult the Barkeep now would you? That's rather rude of you, you know."

"Ah… is it?" Skiff queried, trying to keep an eye on the diplomats and find a way to get rid of the drink at the same time. "Well, then… um. I guess I could give it a taste, although it would be against the law so maybe I shouldn't." He was rambling now.

"If you'd like," The Twi'lek leaned in close, too close. Skiff could see the purple splash of eyeshadow on her lids and the dark red lipstick on her mouth. She smiled seductively, "I can help you finish it." She plucked an olive from the glass and slid it into her mouth slowly, methodically.

"Ah... that's... very thoughtful… ah-m…" Skiff cast his gaze anywhere but down; the waitress' low hanging shirt was a little too revealing. It was increasingly difficult to do so as the Twi'lek brushed his arm. Skiff's eyes had been slowly creeping down and at the touch his gaze shot away again. After a moment he went rigid. Skiff suddenly stood, looking around the room with wild eyes.

"Something wrong, sir?" The Twi'lek asked.

Skiff fished into his purse and put a small handful of credits down on the table. Yes something was wrong, and Skiff couldn't believe he'd missed it. He'd been stupid to let himself get distracted by the waitress.

The diplomats were gone.

* * *

The Archives were much less active in the evenings; and as such, Jocasta always restocked the shelves before she retired to her chambers. The pile of datapads she pushed on the cart was considerably small today, many times the cart would be used for two or- on the off chance- three trips.

The Librarian always found it interesting to read the titles of datapads that had been returned. It was as if she was reading the minds of scholars through the books they checked out. Jocasta had even began a game, trying to guess which padawan or senator had used which datapad.

She smiled as she replaced ' _Advanced Battlefield Tactics_ ' on the higher shelves. That would've been Master Ki-Adi-Mundi's padawan, O-Mer. The Jedi Master was fond of teaching war strategies and platoon maneuvers, and O-Mer was a good study; having understood and learned the basics in under a week.

' _Revolution Movements of the Outer Rim_ ' was undoubtedly read by Nes Ukul, the young boy was always deeply invested in other worldly affairs.

Jocasta chuckled as she took ' _Defending Against a Dual Blade_ ' and put it back in its rightful place. It seemed padawan's weren't the only one's looking to learn. The dual-lightsaber fighting style preferred by Master Aayla Secura had been honed over many years of training; it was quite possible that she was the most adept in the skill. So it was no consequence that the Twi'lek had incentive to learn of how others could counter her attacks; know thine enemy, and you will know how to conquer them.

The other datapads were quickly stored along the shelves, until Jocasta was left with only three: ' _A sick day for Amos McGee_ ', ' _The story of Ferdinand_ ', and ' _Anansi the Spider: A Tale from the Ashanti_ '.

With quick steps, Jocasta made her way to the youngling section. Housed within the temple were over three dozen younglings. And though their training was rigorous, and their studies were time-consuming, the Archives still held a small section of carefully selected children's tales.

It was Master Yoda's idea to incorporate the stories, the Grandmaster always did appreciate the mind of a child.

Now of course all the children's stories were geared towards reinforcing the jedi code. For instance, ' _A sick day for Amos McGee_ ' had the moral of the importance of leadership, and what happens when there's a lack thereof. ' _The story of Ferdinand_ ' was a popular one, showing how peace could prevail amidst a culture of fighting and war. And the tales of Anansi were a series of short stories, each depicting the devious, sneaky spider on her misadventures.

Jocasta paused, looking at the last datapad with a furrowed brow. Something about it seemed familiar…

"Madame Jocasta?"

The Librarian looked up, startled out of her thoughts, "Master Kenobi," Jocasta placed the datapad on the shelf, turning to face the light haired Jedi Master, "Something I can do for you?"

"Yes." The robed man walked over, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm looking for a planet called Kamino, but I can't seem to find it in the starmap section of the Archives."

Jocasta frowned, "Impossible. If this planet exists it should show in the systems maps, the Temple has the most complete accumulation of galactic star system data in the Galaxy, you know." The Librarian lectured.

The young Master smiled, "I am aware."

Jocasta led Master Kenobi to the nearest holoscreen, quickly pulling up the charts from the system at Obi-Wan's direction. Madame Jocasta frowned, "It should be right here." she said, pointing to an empty space on the screen.

Master Kenobi stroked his beard thoughtfully, "As I suspected… any ideas why it's not in the system?"

Jocasta shook her head, perplexed. After a moment she retrieved a small crystal sphere from the starmap's shelves, returning to Master Kenobi and placing it in his hand. "Take this to Master Yoda." Jocasta said, "He may be able to see what I cannot."

"Thank you."

As the Librarian watched the Jedi Master leave she couldn't help but feel something nagging at the back of her mind, as if there was something else she'd forgotten to pursue. But with a shrug of her head Jocasta dismissed the idea, turning and closing the holoscreen before deciding it was time to retire to her sleeping chambers.

* * *

 _ **Fin! Thanks for reading!**_

 _ **I know the first half was more of a retelling of last chapter, that was intentional. More interesting chapters to come! This was my last pre-written chapter, as of now I will be writing off of my head for the next few posts :)**_

 _ **Final things,**_

 _ **To Stormrunner74: I'm glad you liked the Barkeep, he was fun to write, especially since I based him off of Dexter (from the SW movies) and therefore had some free reign over some of the specifics. Thank you for the ever frequent reviews! I love reading them, they really are encouraging when writing.**_

 ** _That's all for today! See you next week!_**

 ** _-Ardoa88_**


	8. Complications

**_Hello Readers!_**

 ** _I"M BAAACCKKKK!_**

 ** _Yay! I know, I know I said I'd be back for Christmas... surprise! Christmas came early ;)_**

 ** _So Army basic combat training is officially over, and has been for the past *cough* six *cough* weeks. It was... an experience. The most fun you never want to have again. I have many stories about BCT and not nearly enough time to tell them. So... instead I'll tell the story of a particular smuggler... ;)_**

 ** _Fair Warning: I've been sapped of creativity for the past three months- hence, the reason why it took a while to write out this chapter._**

 ** _I will not deprive you any longer._**

 ** _Please enjoy the next, early installment of Star Wars: A Smugglers Story!_**

* * *

 _When had I signed on to be a babysitter?_ The thought rolled insistently through my mind as I led the wobbly senator down the airwalk. He stumbled along beside me as we made our way to the speeder stop. It was a fair ways down so I had time to verify that the Senator and I were being followed; probably by those clods who'd been kicked out of the bar.

Why were people so stupid? Someone needed to write a book on how to be smart. And then hit idiots over the head with it.

It would've been easy to dispatch of them, _if_ I'd had my blaster. As it was, I only had a small vibroblade tucked into my boot and some of Baxter's gizmo's. It would still be enough. I cast my gaze around the pad, looking for a suitable place to lure Darwin and his goons.

Then Roland stumbled, lurching into me. I growled as I fought to keep the politician upright, cursing under my breath. First, I'd have to separate from this bumbling buffoon.

Option One: I could throw him down that chute. Fifteen feet on our left, rusted grate, would probably give under his massive girth. … I probably shouldn't be this tempted by that idea. Bad Lyra. Baaaad. No murdering famous politicians. Option Two: I could say I forgot something. But the drunk might decide to follow me back, and that wouldn't be helpful. Option Three: Leave him at the speeder stop, steal his fat wallet, and draw our pursuers after me instead.

… Okay fine, _pretend_ to steal his wallet.

Honestly, the thought of a few extra credits lining my pockets was tempting, but I still had a job to do- and as annoying as this guy was, he could be useful. Maybe. Probably not. But there was still a possibility.

So I unceremoniously dumped him off at the speeder stop, my hand slipping- very noticeably- into his coat pocket. Then I left him there, striding quickly towards a nearby alley while I shoved my empty fist into my robe.

I sped up as I walked, sensing the ones trailing me do the same. Good; so far, step one of the plan was working perfectly. As for step two… well, I was still trying to figure out what step two was. I took a quick inventory of what I had as I turned into a side alley.

I flipped the knob on my wristband, hearing the soft hum of electricity as a charge began to build up. The buzzer band- as Baxter had called his invention- would take a few minutes to be ready. Next I pulled out my hairpin- a simple brass, cone-shaped stick- checking the sharpened edge to make sure it hadn't dulled before palming the makeshift blade. It wasn't much but it would do. Besides, improvisation had always been my favorite weapon.

"Looks like little miss pinky bender got a bit too cocky."

And so it began; I turned to face Darwin and his two friends. They were all unarmed, although the Bothan looked like he'd been in a fair share of fist fights: his furry, jackal-like snout was slightly crooked- the result of one to many hits to the snozz. The other goon was human, a smug, overconfident grin flashing in the dimly lit alley.

"Really? _That_ 's the menacing punch line you chose?" I scoffed and folded my arms across my chest, "If you mug people as well as you insult them then I've got nothing to worry about."

Darwin's face contorted in a snarl, he nodded and the two goons started forwards.

"Really now? Two on one? I see you're also going for the cowardly prize as well, then. Don't worry, I won't embarrass y'all _too_ badly."

The Bothan came first, the area too narrow for both his wide frame and the human to rush me at once. When he got within range he lunged forwards, a clawed hand extended. It was too easy- I ducked under the clumsy blow, the alien stumbling past me. The human had pulled out a vibroblade, the green energy glowing softly. He swiped downwards and, to his shock, I stepped up to meet it, my own brass blade colliding with his mid-stroke and deflecting it to the side.

Having stepped in close, I shoved my knee into his gut, then smashed the palm of my hand up his nose as he doubled over. The human went crashing to the floor.

"Come now, you're not even _trying_." I commented, rolling my eyes.

Tears in his eyes, the human stood warily, having somehow managed to keep a hold of the vibroblade. He narrowed his eyes and tried to come at me from the side, easier said than done in the narrow space.

"No no no," I admonished as he tried a backhanded thrust, "You're doing it all wrong, look-" I grabbed the outstretched arm and spun into his guard, all the while lecturing, "You're leaving yourself open here," I jabbed him in the abdomen with the back of the hairpiece, "here," slammed the pommel into his shoulder, "here," stomped down on his foot, "and here." finishing the lesson with a knockout blow to the chin. The goons eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped to the floor, vibroblade dropping to the ground.

"And _that_ is how you win a close quarters fight." My eyes flicked to Darwin- still staying a safe distance back- who was… smiling? I cursed and turned around, too late in remembering about goon number two.

The Bothan loomed over me, his clawed hand already in a downward arc towards my chest. Reflexively, I raised the blade to parry but the refined edge was no match for the brute force of the alien. The brass snapped and I yelled as the flesh of my upper right forearm split open.

Dark red almost black, blood- my blood- flowed from the gash. Every one of my nerve endings was on fire- the pain stabbing through my mind much worse than the actual cut itself. Dazed as I was, I had no chance to escape the crushing bear hug- quite literally- of the Bothan. My face pressed into his furry flesh, the air slowly squeezing out of my lungs; I heard a soft beep from my wristband.

Perfect timing.

With a grunt I slammed my wrist against the goons exposed skin, feeling the jackal spasm as 7 volts of electricity coursed through his body. He released his grip, crumpling into a twitching, steaming mass of fur. Chances were, he'd be down for a good long while. I steadied myself, breathing heavily- the blood from my wound leaving a metallic smell in my nostrils.

"That," I said, turning to face the last human, "was not very nice."

Darwin still hadn't moved, simply being an observer as his goons had gone down.

"Look, kid. I'm _really_ not in a good mood. In fact, I'm pissed. But- I'll give you one. Final. Chance. Turn around, and walk away." When he made no move to do so I shrugged, rolling my shoulder, "Or stay here and join your buddies. I hope you put up a better fight than they did. If not," I cracked my knuckles, using my most no-nonsense tone, "I'm going to enjoy killing you."

Darwin laughed, "They said you'd put on a good show. But I never thought it'd be this fun."

Alarm bells started going off in my head, "Who said what now?"

Darwin pushed off the wall he'd been leaning on, stretching out his arms. "Unimportant. All that matters is that you won't live to meet them, Lyra Ajdarr. And your death will line my pockets with the reward money."

 _I had a price on my head?_

My first thought after that wasn't 'shit' or, 'time to jump planet' or even, 'Who did I piss off?' Nope. First thought after realizing some bastard had put a tag on my head was, _I wonder how much the bounty is?_ Yup, even when it was my own neck on the hit list, my mind always found a way to keep my priorities straight. My second thought: _How did he know my name?_

"Well," I said, raising my fists, "I hope you weren't expecting an easy kill."

"Oh I wasn't." Darwin grinned, pulling out a black blade. He triggered a button on the hilt and blue electricity sparked to life along the arm-length blade, hissing and cackling to life as he advanced.

I went pale, and not from bloodloss. "E-Blades are illegal you know." I said admonishingly, trying to mask the panic that surged through me, "20 to life just for owning one. But, seeing as you're about to commit murder I doubt you're concerned about the legalities.

If I'd had my blaster on me, Darwin would've been pumped with photon bolts by now. As it stood, I was weaponless, wounded, and in need of a plan. Option One: run. Granted, not my most creative of ideas, but I wasn't terribly optimistic about my odds here. Option Two: fight. Again, not very original, but there was that vibroblade goon one had dropped. I wasn't the best with a blade but I was decent enough to hold my own. However, Darwin's steely eyed gaze clued me in that this wasn't his first time crossing blades. Option Three-

"You there, halt!"

My eyes flicked to behind the human, expecting to see the Galactic Peacekeepers or some other authorities, guns trained at my attackers back. Sure they might arrest us, but as it was, I appeared like a helpless senator so i suspected my chances of getting off easy were good.

What I _didn't_ expect to see was a young Darthomirian male, clad in a light brown robe.

* * *

There were definite perks to running your own personal business. You could wake up however late you wanted to, work as much (or as little) as you wished, you could take an infinite amount of paid leave, and you didn't have to work around someone else's schedule. Simply put, this meant that Baxter was currently behind on his orders; between helping Lyra with her heist and his own personal projects, his real work had been placed on the back burner.

It had taken him three hours to repair the turbine tailpipe of Order #43: the connector plug had been badly frayed, and two of the three screws fastening the part in place had worn down so much so, that the threads were practically nonexistent. Then there was the faulty signal processor on Order #47; the core had cracked, causing the comm quality to degrade into a static mess. After an hour of removing and replacing the part, Baxter had taken a quick meal break before starting on the third ship: an A-wing modified to be a transport cruiser.

Baxter glanced at the order, skimming over the details of the malfunction- he knew how to reconfigure an atomizing combustion chamber- to find the ship schematics. The pale, slightly translucent paper depicted various levels of the ship; the outer frame, inner workings, core components, etc. The mechanic soon found the location of the faulty unit and groaned in annoyance. It was behind a tangled mass of rotor assembly gadgets, meaning Baxter would have to remove most of it to even _get_ to the combustion chamber.

Rubbing a hand down his face, the echani took a deep breath, exhaling vocally as he rubbed his hands together.

"That wrench isn't going to turn itself." He said aloud, grabbing his tool kit and making for the A-wing. He'd just squirmed his way underneath the belly of the starship when he heard the smooth ' _thrum_ ' of an engine. Very smooth, more of a purr that the typical wheezing, groaning rattle of a lower-city engine.

The ship was landing too, he could tell by the way the pitch deepened dramatically, the drive trains shutting down as it landed on a heliopad. The engines shut of with a triple click, causing Baxter's eyebrows to raise: _Interesting_.

The mechanic rolled out from under the order as the door to his workshop opened to admit a golden droid with red fittings. An equally vibrant red symbol gleamed on the metallic chest of the protocol droid: two diamonds interlaced, the left one sporting the letter' 'A' and the right one the letter 'B', with a solid circle in the center.

"Greetings," The droid bleated through its voice box, "I am C-L24. My master requires your repair services."

 _Straight to the point,_ Baxter thought with a nod, "Your master?"

C-L24 tilted its head, "Yes. My master, the Great Curator."

 _What kind of egotistical maniac programs their droid to call them that?_ The echani wondered, rolling his eyes at the extravagant title. "And you master is where, exactly?"

"The Great Curator is away on business," the droid said, "He has authorized me to conduct all transactions, both verbal and monetary, in his absence."

Baxter shrugged: he'd seen stranger things. It was a particularly common practice for cartel bosses to send underlings- mechanical or otherwise- to do their dealings for them. Ma'Doran, head of the Black Sun gang was particularly known for conducting his business through a pair of droids with a significant amount of firepower at their disposal; in case dealings went south. But Baxter had never heard of this 'Great Curator' guy before. The droid turned and led the way out to the heliopad, with the mechanic following behind. Baxter had a feeling he knew what kind of ship the droid had come on- only one manufacturer had a triple engine shutdown sequence.

Sure enough, sitting on the rusted pad, gleaming in the light beams filtering through the upper city was a sleek yellow and black Star Yacht. Baxter paused to admire the beautiful piece of machinery: the Baudo shipyards were the most superb manufacturers in the galaxy, combining the perfect amount of functionality with splendor. Each ship was custom built to the specifications of the buyer- although the overall structure was typically similar, with three Dynacore engines attached to the end of a cone-shaped body.

Baxter whistled, even the cheapest of Baudo ships cost a pretty credit, this one… the mechanic would be hard pressed to put a price on the vehicle- and he'd only seen the outside. The same symbol was painted on the body of the craft, the two red squares standing out like a Gammorean in the Stygian system. The echani glanced at the droid.

"Your master, did he tell you to come here specifically?"

"Of course not," C-L24 responded, "I performed a scan of nearby repair shops and cross referenced the skill levels of the mechanics with galactic records on costs for labor. Your shop stood out as the most fair priced for quality provided."

"Hrm…" Baxter wasn't sure whether the comment had been meant as an insult or praise. Either way, a client was still a client. "What's wrong with the ship? It looks fine from the outside."

"The internal hyperdrive unit has been malfunctioning."

"Malfunctioning how?"

"I am a protocol droid, not a repair unit." The droid replied with indifference.

The echani sighed, "So you need me to do a system overhaul, identify the problem, and then fix said problem?" This was gonna be a pain.

"Ideally yes." C-L24 stared at him with glowing yellow eyes, "My master has told me this must be completed with the greatest haste, and he has authorized extra funding for your time. Would this amount be sufficient?"

Baxter glanced at the datapad, his eyes bulging slightly at the six figure sum.

"Your reaction tells me this is a fair amount, yes?"

"More than fair," The mechanic agreed, "I'll get to work on the system as soon as I complete my other orders."

The droid shook its golden head, "My master is in need of his ship within the next 24 hours."

"What!" Baxter's eyebrows drew together, "A system check takes half a day, let alone ordering new parts and-"

"So you cannot fix the ship?"

A nerve twitched in Baxter's mind, "I can fix anything," He declared, chest swelling with pride, "The time frame is just a bit tight." His mind thought back to the six digits- no wonder this Curator guy was being so generous; he was asking for the impossible.

 _Improbable. Nothing's impossible._ Lyra's words echoed in his mind.

"I'll take the job." Baxter agreed, mentally berating himself even as the words left his mouth.

"This is good. I will inform my master. Call this frequency once the craft is repaired." C-L24 replied, handing Baxter a datapad with the ship schematics before leaving, waddling down the airwalk towards the nearest speeder station. The mechanic nodded a few times to himself, making a mental list of all the tools he'd need to start the scan. He could finish reconfiguring the atomizing chamber while the system check was running.

The light had long since faded by the time he'd reinstalled all the parts onto the A-wing. Baxter ran a quick diagnostic to reassure himself that everything was put back properly. The diagnostic came back clean and the mechanic proceeded to close out the job- filing the data into the holonet.

He sat down in the metal work chair, rubbing his eyes wearily. He'd put in a long day's work and was ready for a much needed nap- even now, having only been seated for a minute, his eyelids were already drooping, his head proceeded to bob up and down as he tried to stay awake. At some point he must've given into the exhaustion because he jerked awake when the system scan beeped to signal its completion.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Baxter skimmed the results, his frown deepening with every line. "That's impossible." He muttered in the silence. Wasting a moment mindlessly staring at the screen, he then quickly made his way out to the pad, moving with a vigor fueled by curiosity. Baxter made his way to the back of the ship, unlatching the access panel that led to the core internal drive. The dimensional shift processor was kinked to an unnatural degree and the hyperdrive motivator had completely frozen over- despite the fairly warm atmospheric temperatures. The main drive itself was oblong and rectangular- as opposed to a typical cylindrical shape.

"A class one." Baxter breathed in wonder. Hyperdrive systems were classified on a 2-7 scale, with class two's consisting of the highest grade materials. Class one hyperdrives were a myth among mechanics- a fable that told of a near perfect drive system capable of switching hyperlanes mid-jump. The system's one flaw was that the motivator- unable to withstand the power needed to switch lanes- would crystallise; thus needing to thaw out in order to jump again.

For the first time in a long time, the mechanic was well and truly stumped. A phrase he never thought he'd say dancing through his mind:

 _There's no way I can fix this..._

Baxter closed the hatch in dejection, he'd have to contact that droid and tell him the drive was irreparable. The scraps he normally used would in no way compare to the quality machinery in this ship- and purchasing a new hyperdrive of the highest grade was out of the question; Baxter barely had the credits to fund his own junkyard projects. He thought back to his earlier statement, scoffing at his naivete. Since when had he been as brash and overconfident as Lyra?

Lyra.

That girl… always diving in headfirst. Never quitting, even when giving up would be the wisest choice. Even with the odds stacked higher than the tallest skyscraper, she'd never lose that can-do, will-do mentality. Too stubborn for her own good.

Baxter grit his teeth; he couldn't let her win. He'd never hear the end of it if she ever found out he didn't at least _try_. If she could find the courage to take on that impossible job, then he could muster up the resolve to fix this impossible order. He owed it to the client to give it a shot. He owed it to himself as a mechanic to give it his all.

His phase of doubt now passed, Baxter stood, offering the grimmest of grins, saying, "Better get started." which roughly translated to: it was going to be a long night.

* * *

 _ **Fin!**_

 _ **Thanks for reading!**_

 _ **A few things:**_

 _ **1) To all my old readers thank you for sticking with the story even through the long hiatus- I was just as heartbroken as you were when I had to leave my friends and family and technology for ten consecutive weeks. It shows wonderful dedication if you are willing to wait all summer for a new chapter to be posted and it honors me more than words can express.**_

 _ **2) I am still in training mode however- even though I do indeed have technology at my disposal, I am only able to access it for short periods of time each day. So getting a chapter out each week will be difficult at best. I might not post as often as you (or I) would like so apologies in advance for the spastic schedule. I ask that you continue being amazing readers by sticking it out, and I thank you in advance.**_

 _ **3) To my new readers, WELCOME! I hope you've enjoyed the story thus far and I encourage you to keep reading. I look forward to new reviews and perspectives and critiques as I begin posting again.**_

 _ **4) Please review and critique! I cannot say this enough. Especially now that I've been out of the game for so long I NEED feedback- It will tremendously help encourage me to post more frequently if I know someone out there still wants to read my story. The joy of reading a review is indescribable so please (even if you hated a chapter) tell me what you think.**_

 _ **And lastly, as you all know, I'll keep writing, as long as you keep reading.**_

 _ **Have a great Veterans Day weekend!**_

 _ **-Ardoa88**_

 _ **p.s. MAN have I missed fanfiction stories... like a LOT: writing them and reading them. Can't wait to see what new chapters have come out in my absence!**_


	9. Unexpected Aid

_**Hello readers!**_

 _ **First, allow me to apologize from the bottom of my heart for not updating this and my other story sooner- I'm still in training and we don't get nearly as much personal time as I would have expected. Thusly, writing has had to be put on the back burner. I ask that you please forgive the delay.**_

 _ **Additionally, I would like to re-thank those who have favorited and followed this story:**_

 _ **Dinosaur Imperial Soldier, HarmonyGirl567, XXX-AJ-Writes-XXX, ZabuzasGirl, stormrunner74, Dragonpwner6, Ensis69, KOTORFanatic, The Grey Mile, Xinamon, XscounselondonerX, crawler123, oddject, and vibrovance.**_

 _ **ANd do not think I have forgotten those readers who have stuck with this story through the months: I appreciate the support of each new review, so...**_

 _ **THANK YOU ALL!**_

 _ **One last note before I shut up and let you read the next eagerly awaited chapter.**_

 _ **I went back to the previous chapter and renamed the mysterious mystery character 'The Great Collector'. He/She/It is now called 'The Great Curator' (sounds much more regal, right? :)**_

 _ **That's all for now. Without further ado, please enjoy the next chapter of Star Wars: A Smugglers Story!**_

* * *

The last thing I had expected to see in this run down sector was a Jedi. Even from a distance, and half hidden in shadow, the robed Darthomirian was clearly a member of the mysterious group of so called 'Peacekeepers'. The weapon he had drawn and held loosely in his right hand was distinctly shaped: a favored weapon of his class.

A Lightsaber. A weapon of immeasurable destruction that could cut down man or machine.

This was my first time seeing the weapon in person, but of course I'd heard of them: and it matched the description I had read in the library. A cylindrical metal handle, roughly larger than the palm of one's hand. Though it hadn't been activated, it's blade could deflect even the strongest of blaster bolts and cut through the thickest of metals like butter. The Jedi wielded the blades with amazing skill and accuracy, making them formidable opponents. That and their use of the mystical power of the Force made them nigh unstoppable.

I took a step back out of habit. When dealing with a stronger opponent, it was best to get your distance and assess their strengths and weaknesses. Then I remembered that I wasn't necessarily this Jedi's target. He seemed more focused on Darwin than me.

"Halt I say." The Jedi repeated, taking a step forward, "You are under arrest for the assault of a Senator."

I frowned, _Senator? I left him in the speeder._ Darwin had stopped in confusion as well, looking around for a diplomat in fancy robes- _Oh, ri-ight_ , I glanced down at my garb: _I_ was the 'senator'. Darwin came to the realization seconds after me, throwing back his head and laughing as if it were some kind of inside joke.

"You really have them fooled, don't you?"

"Come peacefully and I can grant you a fair trial." The Jedi said, either ignoring Darwin's comment or ignorant of it's meaning. He had stepped into the dim alley light now, and I could see the full extent of his features; five small horns crowned his head, and darker- tribal like- markings ran down his face in stunning patterns. A beaded braid hung down from one of his aft horns, more symbolic than functional…

Shit.

I knew what the mark symbolized. This Jedi was no Jedi- he was merely a trainee! A- whaddiddaycallit, a padawan learner unskilled in his craft. _Great_ , I thought, preparing for another fight, _another idiot to babysit._ Darwin had noticed the rank too, chuckling darkly as he advanced on the kid. The E-Blade cackled in a more sinister manner, as if it sensed its wielder's excitement. Electricity coursed across the metal.

The Darthomirian seemed to only just now notice the weapon. He frowned, "Wait- E-Blades are illegal. You can't have that."

This was the perfect time for a facepalm, but I refrained from the movement, instead calling to the kid "Well guess what? He does."

"So you'd best scram, brat." Darwin added, and I was a bit shocked to realize we had the same opinion on that. _Before you get yourself killed_ , I added to myself as I retrieved the vibroblade from the ground.

"I cannot ignore a citizen in need."

Darwin sniggered, "Such noble final words." before rushing towards the trainee. The human was fast for a thug- faster than I'd anticipated, his E-Blade snaking forwards like a viper. To my equal astonishment, the kid blocked the attack, having activated the lightsaber and brought it across his body in a block. The weapons crossed, spitting sparks upon contact. It seemed the mighty blades couldn't cut through everything after all.

They exchanged a short series of blows; Darwin clearly obtaining the upper hand when it came to raw skill. The kid had no imagination, using a plethora of predictable parries and thrusts clearly used for sparring drills and not actual fighting. The thug dropped low, sweeping his leg under the trainee and tripping the kid. As the padawan hit the floor, Darwin was already pressing his advantage, slashing down at the prone figure.

Only to go flying back, as if a wookie had picked him up and thrown him against the alley wall like a rag doll. Darwin grunted from the blow but managed to land on his feet in a crouch. It was enough of a break in the fighting for the padawan to get back up, but instead of taking the opportunity to attack he wasted time repositioning his hands on the hilt.

My assumption that this kid hadn't been in a real street fight was proven true as the thug grabbed a handful of dirt that'd accumulated in the side street; Darwin lunged forwards, throwing the sand into the kid's face. It was the kind of cheap trick everyone learned to use and subsequently avoid, but once more the padawan was caught off guard by it; the oldest trick in the database. He stumbled back and tried to clear it from his eyes with his off hand, but it was useless. The grime of Coruscant was smeared with as much oil and grease as dirt, and so the rubbing only spread instead of cleaned.

Darwin grinned, taking advantage of the moment. I stepped forwards instinctively despite knowing I was to far to intervene. That kid was as good as dead-!

To my shock, the padawan blocked the first volley of blows. His lightsaber flourishing in a bewildering sequence of maneuvers. Darwin seemed just as surprised, his momentum slowing a fraction as he began calculating his future attacks. Eyes closed, the Darthomirian somehow managed to hold his own, his hand moving to protect himself from the deadly weapon with unerring precision.

Kid should've been dead five times over by now. I realized that the force was the ultimate cheat. And while I was all for stacking the odds in my favor, this was one skill I could never use, but one that could still be used against me. I firmly decided to never have anything to do with it ever again; once this job was done I would avoid these Jedi like the plague.

Even a cheat couldn't last forever though. Eventually with a feint to the side, Darwin landed an echoing strike with his hilt against the padawan's hand. The blow worked in disarming the Darthomirian, the lightsaber clattering to the side as the thug went in for the kill.

But as the E-Blade shot towards the padawan, a blast of Force exuded from where he stood, throwing Darwin and myself away from the center. I landed hard on my shoulder, hearing something crack just before another bout of pain slashed through my mind. My teeth were clenched so tight I thought they would crack, my head pounding as spots danced in my vision. That had _hurt!_

"Ah-! are you okay? I'm sorry, that wasn't supposed to hit you." The Jedi padawan had rushed over and was now crouching at my side.

Wasn't supposed to-? What kind of _idiot_ used a weapon they couldn't properly control! My job cover went flying out the window as I opened my mouth to give this… this ametuer a piece of my mind.

* * *

It was his only option. As the thug drove in for the killing blow, Skiff unleashed a large Force blow- large enough to send both the thug and the senator girl flying away from him. The thug slammed into the alley wall, crumpling to the floor with a thud. The girl landed on her side, rolling a bit before coming to a stop.

Skiff's eyes widened in panic and he raced over to the girl, holding out his throbbing hand and calling the lightsaber back to him. She was groaning in pain, gripping her right shoulder. There was blood on her forearm too- dark blood that had seeped into the fabric of her robes.

He crouched down, one hand moving to tug on the end of his padawan braid and set it back into it's official place. "Ah-! Are you okay? I'm sorry, that wasn't supposed to hit you." The girl looked confused for a brief second, then she looked angry- really _really_ angry, her face contorting into a scowl as she glared at him with sharp, indigo eyes.

"What the _hell_ did you think you were doing!" The Senator girl snarled.

"I-" Skiff was taken aback by the attitude. He'd just _saved_ her from that thug! He'd seen his Master get sung praises and have people promise their firstborns from gratitude for doing lesser feats. "I was... saving your life?"

"I. Had. _Everything_ under control." The senator snapped, moving to stand. She stumbled a bit, blinking rapidly and leaning on the side wall for support.

"You call _this_ 'under control'?" He admonished, frowning at the lack of respect.

"Well… yes, actually." Her eyes focused on something behind him, then narrowed. "You might wanna duck, kid."

Skiff was getting tired of the flippant tone, "My name is-"

"Duck!"

"Gah-!" The padawan dropped as the senator threw a vibroblade- _where had she gotten that?_ \- at his face. The blade sailed harmlessly past him, and Skiff drew his lightsaber as he stood back up, thumbing the switch and watching as his green blade extended from the hilt, "What was that about! After I saved your life you go and try to _kill_ me?"

"Nngh…" Skiff looked back at the noise, seeing the thug fall back, clutching at the hilt of a vibroblade embedded in his neck.

"Sorry?" Skiff looked back at the Senator girl who was smirking slightly, "Who was saving who again? You didn't even make sure your opponent was down before turning your back on him? Ametuer move. You're gonna get us killed if you pull a stunt like that." The young diplomat hissed.

"Hey-" Skiff had fought well, better than he'd ever done in the training rooms. And how was he supposed to know the thug was thick enough to stay awake after a Force blast?

"Put that poker away, kid." The Senator girl directed, pushing off the wall and swaying slightly, "Before someone sees it."

"Why?" Skiff frowned, the lightsaber was seen as the universal symbol of the Jedi. Of the Peacekeepers of the Galaxy; he'd seen holorecordings of his master capturing drug dealers, crime lords, and the like- all without conflict, just by drawing his blade.

" _Why?_ " The Senator girl sounded shocked that he'd even asked the question, "Because, kid, any thief with half a brain knows that lightsabers are invaluable in the lower markets. They make a name for themselves and retire off the earnings with one sale. So put it away, before some imbecile gets it into his thick head to try and take it from you."

"Oh…" Skiff deactivated the weapon, hooking it back onto his belt. "Well… anyway, we need to get you to a doctor."

"I'm fine, kid." The Senator girl said, pushing past him and heading for the main skywalk.

"No, you're not- your arm's bleeding and your shoulder looks… wrong."

"Thanks for stating the obvious. But I'll be fine, kid."

In the light of the skywalk the Senator girl certainly didn't _look_ fine. Her robes were tattered and scuffed up from the fight, and strands of her auburn hair had slipped out of the tight bun to hang wildly, framing an angled face. Her lips were set in a tight line, but she winced every time her shoulder shifted, betraying the front of determination. The girl was slightly smaller than Skiff himself, and he frowned as he realized she was quite young for a senator- maybe even younger than he was.

She stopped and sighed, turning to face him, "Look, kid. Thanks and all, but seriously-"

"Stop calling me that." Skiff interrupted, "We're the same age, or thereabouts, so stop calling me 'kid'."

"We may be the same age, but I have a lot more experience than you, _kid_." She put stress on the word intentionally.

"I have a name you know." Skiff said, getting annoyed. "It's Skiffuei, Skiffuei Ankaar. Padawan to Master Uvell of the Jedi Knights-"

"Great, kid. Good for you." The Senator girl wasn't really listening, scanning the speeder stop they'd arrived at and frowning, "Guess he went back already." She mused quietly, shrugging and sitting down on the bench. Skiff sat down next to her, looking around as well; the stop was empty except for a rhodian who was talking into a comm link.

"Who?"

The girl blinked, looking over at him, "You're still here? I thought I told you to go home already."

Skiff returned the look, "I am. We just so happen to be going the same way, Senator…?"

"Eris. Eris Anansi of Candovant." The Senator girl said after only a moment's hesitation. "And I'm not a senator, I'm just filling in. Senator Bruss is sick so I'm a glorified note secretary. A note-retary, I guess."

The poor senator girl was starting to make up her own words. She must have hit her head harder than Skiff thought.

* * *

The Halls of Healing were quiet. Correction, the infirmary was quiet. Regardless of the time of day, the Halls of Healing were constantly active- masters and apprentices alike scurrying about with medical reports, news of upcoming practices, logs of recent patients. It seemed there could never be enough paperwork in a medbay.

The infirmary, however, was rarely occupied, save for the few regular patients who came in for routine checkups or to heal wounds sustained from heavy bouts of lightsaber practice. At the late hour, the only noises in the bay were the soft gurgle of the hundreds of bacta tanks and the low whirr and hum of a dozen machines on standby. Half a handful of actual humanoid lifeforms remained in the medbay itself; the chief healer, Vokara Che, having passed an ordinance that required the infirmary to be staffed even in the wee hours of the morning.

It was a graveyard shift. One that Bariss Offee just so happened to have been unlucky enough to be assigned to that night. After a full day of training with Master Luminara, the young padawan could barely keep her eyes open, the slow, methodical ticking of a clock only encouraging her eyelids to succumb to gravity's insistent pull. It was just _so_ boring: No doubt Bariss would still be expected to wake up early for morning meditation, despite the lack of rest.

Slumped over the reception desk, Bariss fiddled with some of the healing crystals on the table, rearranging and stacking them by using the force. They consisted of many shapes and hues, each cut carefully; constructed to produce the most effective results for the kind of healing with each color signifying a specific type of medical treatment. It had been Vokara Che who'd discovered the special properties of combining the force with different cuts of the crystal. Of course that had been before she was the Chief Healer, but the discovery had been no less substantial; her findings had helped reduce the number of casualties in battle, as any Jedi- skilled or otherwise in the ways of force healing- could now treat an injured comrade at a moment's notice.

Bariss silently ran through the list of crystals on the table; it wasn't uncommon for the masters to spring surprise tests on the padawans- and besides, it would be something to do. The girl sat up, looking over the jewels. She selected an obelisk one, the shape of which indicated that it was intended for severe wounds, the slate color informing her that it's intent was to heal muscle damage. The crimson marquise stone was created for excessive bleeding, the deep red glinting under the light. The other three gems were round, spherical in shape, showing that they were for minor injuries. Indigo representing bruising, a rust orange for burns, and an alabaster white to combat disease.

Absentmindedly, the padawan levitated the white and red stones, spinning them lazily in a circle above her hand. She increased the speed of their movements until they were a blur, flashing red and white in turn as they chased each other in an endless loop. It was enchanting to watch, especially when Bariss added the indigo gem as well. Red, white, and indigo swirling in a beautiful dance that she alone controlled.

Her absolute power over the inanimate objects was… exhilarating. Addicting, almost.

Then the door to the medbay slid open, breaking the padawan's concentration as the three stones hurled in different directions, their momentum propelling them across the room where they clattered into various objects. The red stone smacked into the doorframe, causing the arrival to jerk to the side in surprise. The padawan stood up in concern, wincing as she imagined the kind of repercussions Master Luminara would think up to address her student's carelessness.

"I'm so sorry, I-," Bariss' apology trailed off as she recognized the alien who had entered. An eyebrow rose curiously, "I haven't seen you here in awhile."

"Is that a bad thing?" Skiffuei replied, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"If it means you've managed to stop hurting yourself with a training blade then yes, it is a very good thing."

"Hey-"

"I mean _talk_ about incompetent." Bariss teased.

Skiffuei rolled his eyes, "Whatever. I'm surprised that you're back already. Weren't you on a mission to Old Mantel?"

"Ord Mantell." The healer corrected, "We got back the day before last."

"That was fast…" Skiffuei mused, "And I thought dethroning a crime boss would've taken at least a week- Not that you're not capable enough to handle it," He amended, a soft flush rising to his cheeks, "But I just thought it would've been a touch more difficult- I'm not saying it was an easy mission, of course, I just-"

"Should stop embarrassing yourself and shut up? Great idea."

Bariss frowned at the interjection, looking past her acquaintance to see the other arrival. It was strange, the healer hadn't even sensed her enter the medbay. The girl was of average height, with auburn hair hanging loosely around her face. Her face was pale, abnormally so for a human. It wasn't long until Bariss then noticed the cause of the drastic color dilution; the right sleeve of the girl's robes (fancy ones at that) were drenched in blood- presumably her own.

"Who's your friend?" Offee asked, even as she stood to go clear off a examination table.

"Oh this is-"

"Name's Eris. And we're not friends; this idiot insisted on dragging me here despite the fact that I'm quite alright." Eris quipped.

"... You have blood all over your robes." Bariss pointed out, thinking maybe this girl was in some state of shocked denial.

However Eris just nodded in agreement, "Exactly as I said- I'm perfectly fine."

"No, you're not." Skiffuei admonished. "The senator was attacked by a street thug. Luckily, I was there to save her."

 _Senator?_ Bariss looked over the girl with a more critical eye. The robes were that of a diplomat, and the slightly upturned nose was very characteristic of a pompous politician. But something was off: it was the eyes, Bariss realized. The girl's eyes were observant, taking in everything around her and analyzing it with a sort of circumspect caution not seen in the arbitrary unconcerned and shrewd gaze of those of her peers.

At the statement the girl snorted, "Yeah, you're my hero."

Skiffuei flushed, "Combat isn't my specialty and that was obviously a highly skilled mercenary-"

Eris cut him off with another laugh, " _Skilled_?"

Bariss Offee wasn't following the entire conversation, but Eris' arrogance and crude cocksure attitude was beginning to annoy the healer. As her master had taught her, Bariss took a meditative breath, forcing herself to calmly say, "Come sit over here, I'll take a look at it. I'll just need some basic personal information questions answered."

"...Why?" The cocky aura diminished a bit, shifting to suspicion, even as Eris let Skiffuei lead her over to the table.

"Protocol." Bariss explained, "Forms and record and such, stating that I have your permission to provide aid and clearing the Halls of Healing from potential liability." The paperwork was terribly exhausting, the healer rolling her eyes as she pulled out a clipboard with about a dozen sheets on top. "Political messes; nothing you wouldn't understand, senator."

Eris, who had sat down and was currently gazing at the rows of bacta tanks, nodded, "Oh certainly. I understand completely-" She stood from the table and began making her way for the exit, "I do not give my permission. Goodbye."

The senator made it all of three steps towards her destination before swaying woozily.

Bariss and Skiffuei hurried to her side, stabilizing her. At close quarters, Bariss noticed the thin sheen of sweat forming on her skin and frowned, _she's lost too much blood, I'll need to prepare a blood transfusion_. "Why don't you sit down before you fall down." Bariss muttered, "Trust me, I do _not_ want to have to fill out a form 31B."

Even in her delusional state, Eris managed to ask, "Form 31B?"

Rather than explain the process of filling out the paperwork stating that unauthorized medical care was given to one unable to consent to such care due to extenuating circumstances, Bariss simply replied, "It's five pages long."

* * *

 _ **Tadaa! Fin.**_

 _ **Thanks for reading! I'm not sure when I'll be able to get the next chapter out, but I'll be working on it- don't you worry!**_

 _ **Final notes:**_

 _ **My advanced training will end in early March and then I will be back home, working on going to college and life in general and blah blah blah... The important thing is, I will have a lot more free time to write and generally be creative. So I beg of you to keep being awesome readers by reviewing and critiquing these chapters (and occasionally telling me to hurry up and post a new installation ;)**_

 _ **I welcome any new reader to this story, yes- you have found it, the most EPIC story in all of star wars history! ;P (hahaha... if only) And to my returning readers I say Welcome Back! That was quite a long commercial break, I do apologize again.**_

 _ **As always, thank you so much in advance for reviewing and critiquing, I greatly encourage everyone (even those who do not have accounts) to drop me a note. Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, heck- tell me about your day! Anything you have to share I'll be glad to listen to.**_

 _ **Have an exceptional day!**_

 _ **-Ardoa88**_


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